


Star-Burned

by Spc4eva



Series: Lost Amongst the Parsecs [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Play, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Mandalorian Armor (Star Wars), Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Reader-Insert, Romance, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:53:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29184336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spc4eva/pseuds/Spc4eva
Summary: A Mandalorian crash lands on your planet with severe injuries. You're a moisture farmer who's handy. It's been a long time since you've had company other than your massiff, Jumbles. You take the Mandalorian in because you're a bleeding heart, not realizing what danger you've put yourself in. But the Mandalorian doesn't forget and he's more than willing to repay his debt and protect you.
Relationships: Paz Vizsla/Original Female Character(s), Paz Vizsla/Reader, Paz Vizsla/You
Series: Lost Amongst the Parsecs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149497
Comments: 23
Kudos: 106





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Mandalorian crash lands near your farm. You offer help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my first reader insert. I am hella nervous. There will be no Y/N included, but pet names (and nicknames) given out by Paz that will act as Y/N. Additionally, feel free to imagine yourself in the shoes of the character, but I am going to include a few features that she has - to include very, VERY Merida curly red hair. Honestly, I'm gonna treat her more like an OC, but since it's a reader insert - imagine yourselves how you want QUEEN.
> 
> There's gonna be smut. But plot. I promise. 
> 
> Warning: masturbation, fingering

Someone had crash landed.

Which, for this quiet hovel a planet, was the most action you'd seen in  _ foreverrrr _ . Maybe  _ ever  _ to be honest. You were used to dealing with Jawas, the occasional drifter, and patching up your moisture farm as best as possible. Was honest work, pretty lonely since your folks had passed away, but it was all you had. Not entirely of course, there was the local wiley massiff that you'd feed scraps and talk to, as if it were a kindred soul, eying you with those beady little eyes before salivating over its disconcertingly large maw. Yeah, you should have been worried that it might've been sizing you up in case you didn't come out with a meal for it, but at least you did have a blaster. Would've been a sad day to have to put Jumbles down - yes, that's what you had named it. For no particular reason other than it had spontaneously fallen out of your mouth and the creature seemed to listen to it.

So when Jumbles trotted up with its spines quivering, baying and leaping around, you half expected it was going to lead you to another rotting womp rat corpse. What you were not expecting was to see smoke peeling from between the canyon walls, dark and sulfuric. Your years patching the farm up, making repairs to any scraps you had laying around - to include droids at times - had made you rather handy. You had to be when the nearest town was a two day ride on your speederbike. Self sufficiency was necessary, because it cost credits to get fuel and to ride out that far. Additionally, you had to plan for it... months ahead. 

Jumbles sprinted ahead, wagging a tailless rump before glancing back at you with bounce in his paws. Follow. Come quick. 

Now that you had an idea of what it was, your strides lengthened until you were chasing after the massiff. Between the terracotta walls and around a bend, until you were face to face with a crashed starship that had smoke rolling off the main engines. You winced at the carnage, a good portion of the hull smashed inward and splattered open, storage containers and supplies dashing the sand like organs splayed from a chest wound.

Jumbles woofed, approaching the wreckage. 

"Not a good idea, boy," you started to say. Even if it was a dangerous wild creature, you still worried about it and this mess was still smoking. Who knew if it was about to explode, there could be fuel leaks in tandem with hanging wires and-

Jumbles went inside the ship.

"Ah!" Your legs churned after it. Even if you had to drag the massiff out of the carnage, you would. Jawas would find it soon enough and have their way with the supplies. Could be a good amount of things to take, but even if you were friends with Jawas, you didn't really like picking the bones of others. 

Wires snapped and hissed like tiny snakes around your ear, threatening to singe your barely restricted hair as you ducked. The ship was in an abysmal condition, but the upper echelons of the craft were still intact... Warped, but intact. Your mechanic eyes began discerning the issues, locating the biggest issues first, which was-

Jumbles barked, your neck snapping fast enough that you thought you pulled a muscle. Palming your neck, you trailed forward and saw what... no,  _ who  _ the canine was standing over. Maybe he thought it was a droid. Hell, you thought it was a droid for a moment until you bent down to get a better look and saw that it was breathing. Jumbles yipped again and you blinked, realizing that the massive armored creature was a living person and looked hurt. 

"Hey," you started, poking into the man's shoulder where the blue steel didn't meet. "Hey, you need to get up. This ship might go-" Maker, he felt like metal underneath all those layers. Could be a droid then and you were just wasting your time. "C'mon get up!" But you couldn't leave someone here to die on their ship as it leaked fuel and ignited itself. You rarely saw people as it was and what if the last person you ever saw with this guy and you let him become a toasted human inside his armor?

Hooking your fingers into the pauldrons of the armor, you made a valiant attempt at trying to drag the figure out of the ship. He didn't budge. Face down, unconscious, and weighing an absolute ton. Your heart was pumping by now and panic made your hands shake as you desperately glanced around for a solution. Just... anything, a repulsor lift, a speeder... a speeder? Jolting to your feet, you spotted the storage area, having been thrown haphazardly around like a pinball during the crash landing, but still intact. 

Now, the issue would be getting this man onto the speeder. You couldn't even drag him, how in the Maker's name were you going to hoist him over? You brought the speeder over and chewed your lip at your plight, hopelessly glancing from bike to fallen warrior. 

"Hey," you tried again, hoping that maybe you'd get an answer this time. "Hey, c'mon are you in there?" You knocked on the helmet as if it were a door, your knuckles screaming in immediate protest. That was the least of your worries, because a hand flew out, grabbed your ankle, and ripped you off your feet. Back smacking on the steel floor, you groaned as the metal giant finally stirred. Despite the brazen display of insane speed, the figure was barely able to move more than a few centimeters... but he was alive, so he had that going for him. "Maker-" Scrambling back to your feet, you gave him another look over. "If you can hear me, I'm going to try and get you on your feet. I need your help though, can't pick you up myself."

You positioned yourself around him, finding his arm and slinging it around your shoulders before popping a squat. Now, you weren't very big or very strong. Just strong enough to lift things when you needed to, but you had lifts to do the heavier jobs back on the farm. Your knees quaked as you tested the pressure before sucking in a greedy breath. "Alright, one, two, three-" Exploding upward - or making an attempt to explode upward - you made it about a foot and a half before your calves died on you and your back buckled forward. " _ AH _ !" It didn't feel good, the absolute loss of control over your body as you expected to fly face first into the side of the speeder. Unfortunately for you, you didn't have a helmet protecting your face.

But it never came and you chanced opening an eye to look. The man was trying to stand, alleviating a brief amount of pressure as you widen your eyes. Swallowing the huge lump in your throat, you quickly thrust him forward and unceremoniously onto the bike. He grunted, but didn't manage any words before lolling, stomach first, onto the seat. 

There would be no comfortable way to ride this bike, you saw that now as you tried to shove him over the tail a little better, squeezing yourself tightly into the thrusters, almost off the seat entirely as you kicked it into gear and backed out through the massive tear in the hull. Jumbles ran along dopily as you very carefully - at almost a gruelling pace - brought the bike through the ravine and up the ride toward your moisture farm. Now came the second issue.

Getting him inside. 

"We have to walk again," you warned him, the light of day revealing the color of the man's armor - a deep ocean (or from pictures you’d seen of oceans) blue accent with marigold yellow. Didn't quite strike you when you were panicking, but you saw it now as the haze of strife cleared. A Mandalorian. You had pulled a kriffing Mandalorian from the wreckage of his ship.  _ Fuck _ . That ship  _ definitely  _ had carbon scarring on it - indicative of a dogfight.

Too fucking late now.

"6PO can you get the lift?" You shouted for the protocol droid, an old rusted out piece of crap that you'd reprogrammed to help around the house. There was too much for you to do with just your own hands. The droid could manage the more mundane tasks, but still made a piss pour cup of caf. 

The droid stuttered out - having never learned to talk properly - gave you a blank look, and then started waddling toward the work shed where the lift would be. 

"Alright, mando, can you hear me?" you bent over, turning his helmet so that the visor was sort of looking up toward you. "Your ship crashed. Where are you hurt? I can't see that much with all that armor on." Part of you was asking this so you could tend his wounds and then send him packing. "6PO?" you raised your voice irritably, Maker that droid was always slow right when you needed it to be fast.

"W-where?" Finally he spoke, his strangled voice translated through the modulator in his helmet, breathy and in pain.

You told him the planet, pretty backwater and without much activity. There was a spaceport on the other side of the planet, but nowhere near where he was now. Finally, 6PO came over with the lift, cocking its head as you sighed. "About bloody time," you grumble, dragging the lift up and devoting your attention to your charge once again. "Gotta get up again."

This time the Mandalorian was more receptive, putting weight on his legs as you eased him onto the lift, which sagged until his weight. By the way he was cradling his abdomen you were guessing there was some sort of trauma there, but it was hard to tell. You weren't a medic, you weren't even pretending to be as you brought him into your home and slipped him onto your bed since it was the biggest one in the house. But what you did have was bacta, because if something happened to you where you crushed an arm or broke a bone, you needed to be able to fix it. Wasn't often that you had to use the concentrated shots, but it was always better to keep one on hand (even if it cost a fuckton of credits for it). Better to spend the money than die with it in your pocket.

Should you use it on the Mandalorian? That was the question, wincing as he drew rattled breaths in the bed, holding the shot in your palm as you really considered how many credits you had spent on this last year. 

"I need to take a look. Can I remove your armor?" Very carefully you approached like a womp rat before a nexu, almost afraid that one of the very many weapons on his belt might soon be tilted toward you. Of course you knew the stories about Mandalorians and having a behemoth one in your modest home didn't make you feel much better. But he was still a person.

"Not... not the helmet," he grunted eventually.

Everything but the helmet. Alright, that could work. You didn't know how armor worked, so removing the armor was a shitshow of fumbling, your fingers catching buckles, pinching flesh, and other times was fastened so tightly that you had to put some weight into getting the kriffing things off. Took the better part of an hour, but you managed to remove the armor - aside from the helmet - and leave the Mandalorian in just his flight suit and boots. Now this next part felt a bit intrusive, but you convinced yourself that this was in for the better health of the mando.

Unbuttoning the top of the flight suit, you started to peel it down, a rush of heat playing across your cheeks as you revealed the muscular and well hewn figure of the ailing man beneath the beskar. You looked a little too long, but doubted the fellow was even conscious enough to catch your ogling. Biting your lips, you pushed the undershirt up and took your medical scanner to the constellation of bruising against his ribcage. Oh, it didn't look good and the scanner came back with a result that made your legs weak, but not in a good way.

"You've got three broken ribs, lacerations to your spleen and kidneys--" ok you didn't know medical stuff, but the device was blinking indicating that he needed treatment immediately or face going sepsis. Your brain nearly exploded with panic as you tripped over your own feet and sprinted for the bacta infusion, which jumped between your nervous, sweaty hands. "Th-this isn't g-gonna feel good," you stammered, uncapping the three pronged syringe. Maker you hated looking at it, the thing looked like a torture device. 

_ Or go sepsis--- _

You shanked him with the infusion, pushing the plunger down, expecting him to recoil in pain. Actually, he didn't, which made your head turn slowly and a cascade of fiery curls follow as you just stared, in more distress than the severely wounded mando. "I-I will leave you to rest."

* * *

The infusion had been enough to stave off sepsis and repair the Mandalorian's organs, but he was still recovering from the broken bones. From your readings, the bacta had set them back into place, but he required more time to naturally heal the rest. What that meant was that you had suddenly become his caretaker, which consisted of feeding and helping him over to the fresher because he couldn't take his full weight on his injured side. For a Mandalorian, you didn't think he was that mean or callous. If anything, he was pretty gracious that you'd put the effort into struggling to get him back to your ranch.

But work didn't stop. In fact, you still had to run the farm while periodically checking in on the Mandalorian. Despite it, you tried not to seem bone weary when he asked for him. Wasn't his fault. If anything, it was your fault for helping him in the first place. He did answer a few questions, rumbling in a deep voice that sounded like thunder hinting at lightning on the horizon. 

"What's your name?" "You can call me Paz."

"Why did you crash land?" "I was shot down."

"Why though?" "Made some Imps upset."

"So you can't take your helmet off?" "Not in front of anything living."

"Oh so, it's fine if they're dead." "I try not to remove it unless I'm alone."

"Why is it blue?" "Why is what blue?"

"Your armor? Why choose blue?" "It's my favorite color." 

“Mine’s gold. Kind of like the yellow there on your armor.” “Your what?” “My favorite color.”

"You think those Imps are going to come looking for you?" "My ship crash landed, so I doubt it."

That ship, you had actually gone back to one afternoon to cordoned off from the Jawas. You knew them and decided that you liked the Mandalorian enough you weren't going to let his belongings get looted. Since it was close to your farm, laying claim to it - by Jawa code - was not difficult. You left them signs in their tongue, warding them off, before finding yourself taken aback that the thing hadn't exploded while you were gone. It needed a lot of work and probably a proper spaceport where it could be hoisted up and repaired from underneath. 

Your stupid bleeding heart meant that you went and fixed a few wires in your spare time, soldering them off, and cleaning up the worst of the wreckage. The engines would take more time, but they weren't too dissimilar from what you'd worked on in other vehicles, including your speeder and tractor. Peeling open a few holobooks, you would hum yourself to sleep at night in your childhood bedroom, blinking away sleep as you contemplated how else you might help this... Paz. Being generous was not forlorn to you. You'd helped drifters passing through, offered to lodge them up for the night, fill their bellies before sending them off... This planet wasn't that bad aside from the arid landscape and mischievous Jawas. 

Not like you had to worry about raiders or skugs. So your tenderheartedness hadn't come to bite you in the ass yet and aside from wanting a replacement to the bacta shot, you weren't expecting payment. It was called being a good human being and you pride yourself on the fact that you'd done something so nice. Plus, the added bonus was you didn't only have Jumbles to talk to. Now there was a living, breathing person who could hold conversation with you. Course, wasn't really to his will, but you tried not to pester him too much even though you were incredibly curious about what he did. Plus he seemed to get bored being pent up in that room. 

"Tranyc," he'd taken to calling you that in some mysterious language you didn't know, as you hummed into the bedroom after knocking, carrying fresh caf and breakfast. Weeks had passed and he was almost well enough. "I think I might be able to walk on my own. Do you mind-"

Mind keeping an eye out for him? You nod, setting the tray down on the nightstand before preparing yourself. Now, you were a master of helping the blue Mandalorian on his feet, keenly aware of where you fit and could support him from without being crumpled like tin foil. He threw his legs over the bed, testing his feet on the floor as you stood guard, poised like a goalie ready to catch the ball in front of a net before the big shot was made. Admittedly, you were a little too silly for your own good, but being on your own for so long had done that. You would talk to yourself, make funny gestures, and do ridiculous things just to chase away the loneliness. Those mannerisms hadn’t really faded in light of your new acquaintance.

Paz pushed off the bed and stood there, towering over you at full height. You relaxed, glad to see that he was able to hold his own, but also sad about that. A pit welled in your belly, the realization that these few weeks had brought you a lot of happiness in having the company of another. And... you kind of liked him. Not in a companionable sort of way. No, you thought he was attractive --- from his voice, to his sturdy body, to the calm manner he'd talk to you. Despite all the stories you'd heard about Mandalorians, he was very warm and patient. Even if there was no face to place with all of that, attraction was more than just appearances, wasn't it? Then again, you'd been shocked by your sudden arousal on the first day of his arrival after just brushing his muscular chest.

Living alone didn't help your touch-starved addled brain.

And then he took a step forward and your spine jolted, darting forward as he winced for his side and wobbled. "Ah- _ hee! _ " a strange noise came out of your mouth as you tried to stop the tower of a man from tumbling and honestly, he tried too. But the result was still a mess of limbs, and you tried to take the brunt of the fall, cushioning him so that he didn't hurt his ribs again. Maker, that was your first mistake, thinking that you could take the weight of his body.

All air was crushed from your lungs, vision spinning as you made impact with the carpet. And it wasn't coming afterward, your throat bobbing but the pressure on your ribcage still too much that you were suffocating and unable to see at the same time. "Maker!" it wasn't your voice, but at the sound of it, the air whooshed back into your lungs and you sputtered hoarsely as someone sat you up. Not someone. There was only one other person on this farm. "Tranyc? Hey, can you hear me?"

"Y-yup!" you squeaked, the frayed edges of your vision swimming hazily back into focus as you saw that Paz was sitting on the floor with you, propping your semi-noodley form up. "A-are you ok?"

He sighed, the noise crackling out of his helmet as you trembled, sensation returning to your muscles. "I nearly crushed you. What were you thinking?"

"T-trying t-to he-help," you stammer, taking big gulps of air in between each word. Now you could feel a bit better, rolling your neck as you took account of what had happened. You had jumped to his side before he fell, taking the brunt of the fall directly on top of you. Not very smart at all. Then, he'd turned, picked you up and you were --- you were on his lap. "Wha--" Lancing like wildfire across a dry field of brush, blush erupted up your neck and face. "I-I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? I fell on you," Paz pointed out, his helmet tilting to the side as your ears began buzzing. "Are you certain you're ok? I nearly flattened you."

"C-couldn't b-b-be be-better," your tongue was betraying you, thick and clumsy as you pushed against his chest -- oh Maker, the chest without the armor and only the flight suit. You could feel the grooves of his strong pectoral muscles beneath, the color on your face heightening to as bright a red as your hair. "I should... I should leave you to eat. Breakfast is on the ta-table."

You got to your feet, the weak wobbly limbs shaking, but not because you had been used as a pillowy landing for the Mandalorian. No, a heat radiated around your tummy and laddled lower into the abyss between your legs. A very, infrequently ventured area that had been visited once or twice by drifters, but never for much longer than an evening. Anyways, the Mandalorian wouldn't be interested in anything like that. You were just being hormonal and touch-starved. A little alone time could help you with that, right? 

Pushing back your mop of hair, you trotted into the kitchen, glanced at the time and then rolled over onto the couch from behind. You flopped onto the cushions, hair flying everywhere again before you stared blankly at the ceiling, wishing you weren't so terribly horny right now after just grazing a man's chest. How pitiful was that? You were an adult, had been for a good amount of years, and all it took was a deep voice and strong body to make you lose all sense of yourself? 

A soft whimper parted your mouth, the ache so desperate and painful that you gripped the fabric of your coveralls over your crotch and pressed into the sensation. Well, he couldn't walk anyways and you were the only one who lived in the house, so there was no risk in just relaxing here, was there? Despite it, you grabbed the nearby blanket and kicked off your overalls, returning a hand to the ailing point between your thighs. 

Cheeks flushed, neck cocked against the arm rest, you spun circles on the fabric, your pads picking up the wetness through the material. Maker, you were absolutely dripping, soaking through your panties, and making your fingers tacky. Hooking underneath the textile, you run your fingers along the warmth, licking your lips and closing your eyes -- the first thing coming to mind being Paz. The mystery of the man beneath, the muscular pillars of his body, the golden blonde curls against his broad chest. 

Your fingers move up to the bundle of nerves so desperate for attention, nearly screaming at you as you finally lavish attention. His voice, the deep rumble and attentiveness as you talk from where you sit in that chair beside the bed -- your bed. He was sleeping in your bed. Would it smell like him after? Would you ever wash the damn blankets after he left? Probably not. Edging yourself closer, you imagined his thick fingers plunging into your heat, reaching up into your molten core and--

"Tracyn?"

You nearly fell off the couch, clutching onto your sex for dear life as you froze. Your whole body vibrated, muscles stiffening as you fought off the white hot surge of an orgasm. How the fuck had he gotten out of the room? 

Tufts of your long hair were sticking out from the couch. No matter how far you slumped down, tried to hide beneath the edge of the blanket, your fucking hair was a blinding curly beacon and fluffing out as an admission of betrayal. 

You couldn't hold your breath any longer, the guttural whine hitching as the orgasm pittered into a woefully unsatisfying leap -- like a bird that had flung itself over a cliff with a broken wing, somewhat flying before it plummeted to the earth below. He came around the couch, still clutching his side, and paused. Now, the blanket was in the way, but your coveralls were crumpled on the floor and your face was deliciously flushed. 

_ Oh, stars  _ you looked awful. You absolutely knew how dirty you felt by assuming that he'd not walk out and find you, hand slicked with your own wetness and too embarrassed to move. 

"What are you- Did I hurt you?" he asked, reaching down to snare the blanket away.

"N-no!" you gripped it with your free hand, but half of it was pulled away to reveal the outside of your bare leg, and the arm that was still hiding down there. 

"Were you...?" his helmet tilted as you both just remained where you were for a beat. Heart racing like fathiers on a track in Canto Bight, your lower lip trembled in shame, waiting for him to throw the blanket back over and return to the room. He was walking. He  _ could  _ just leave and let you wallow in your own miserable chagrin -- drown in it at this point... "Did you finish?"

"W-what?" you squeaked, face managing to deepen another shade of crimson. 

"Did you finish, mesh'la?" he repeated, sitting down on the couch by your feet, a tanned palm tracing the top of the foot. His skin was calloused, rough, and sandpapery. The foreign sensation made you shudder in his grasp, but it wasn't unpleasant. In fact, you liked the way his hand slowly coasted your calf in a soothing manner. "All alone on this big farm. Not another soul aside from Jumbles."

True, not another soul. You gave a quivering nod in agreement as his hand reached to graze the back of your knee. Still so gentle, with no insistency or malice. 

"Doing everything all on your own. The farm, helping me, taking care of yourself," his hand moved higher, framing the outside of your lower thigh, which caused you to jump. "You haven't once asked me for anything. No repayment or deal despite using that bacta... Couldn't have been cheap. This is just a moisture farm, you're not raking in credits..." He paused, grazing your upper thigh now, daring to push the blanket over a bit more. "For weeks now... Helping me... Did you finish?"

You had, but it hadn't been any good. Your stupid head bobs anyways, sending a few curls tumbling into your face. 

"Maybe-" he was drawing his hand back, the warmth of his scratchy fingers receding and you actually whined because of it, his helmet tilting back up to look at you. "Maybe," he was stronger now. "I can repay you a little for all you've done."

Maker, not a word came out of your mouth, you were nearly gnawing on the blanket from how nervous you were, but also from how much your core began aching again. 

"Do you want me to, mesh'la? I won't touch you unless you want it. I don't want to overstay my welcome, I just thought that-" he trailed off and you wondered what he had thought. Had you been so obvious about liking him? You didn't think so, you thought you had been your usually, dorky but polite self.

"I want you to," you insisted, releasing the blanket so that the rest could slip off and pool on the floor. You still had your shirt on, but you were nude from the hips down, fronds of hair curling over your mound that matched the drapes. This felt oddly... exposing, even if it was only the lower half. And the fact you couldn't read him didn't help, just a blank mask of a face that was drinking you in and you had no idea if he liked or disliked what he saw. What if you were not at all what he had been hoping for? What if he didn't like what he saw?

He groaned, his palm returning to your leg, sliding up and burning a blistering wake of fire before he curved into your hip and jerked you toward him. "Oh, mesh'la," he moaned. "A desert gemstone hidden in these canyons. How did I get so lucky? Of all the planets and places-" he touched you down there, the very sensation of hands not your own making you jolt and your neck tense. _ Fuck _ \--- it really had been a long time. "Wh-when the last time... have you ever... ?"

"A fe-ew ye-ears now," you admitted as his fingers scissor up between your folds. "Be-been on m-my ow-own for si-six. N-not ma-any t-t-travelers."

"So wet," he muttered, bringing the slick up and pinning two fingers on your aching bud. Back stiffening, you bucket at the sensation, grounded by his other palm pressing into the hollow of your hip. You were halfway tugged onto his lap as he watched on with fascination, the curve of your left leg hooked against his hip. "What were you thinking of? Before I found you?"

You blush deeper, if that were at all possible, turning your face away from him as he continued to draw lazy circles on your clit. "Y-you."

His groans again, a growing hardness against your leg -- a hardness for  _ you _ . It's hard to decide what is more startling -- the fact that Paz is here getting you off or that he's aroused by the fact that you'd been playing with yourself while envisioning him. "I'll take care of you. You deserve it mesh'la. After everything you've done for me. I'll make you feel good," he promised, increasing his pace, dipping in his ring and pinkie finger while he continued to oscillate against your bundle of nerves. His fingers stretched you, just as thick and delicious as you'd imagined -- no, it was better than you imagined because it was real. Pumping into you gently, reaching so much deeper than your own small fingers can. " _ Tight _ . Maker, you're so tight."

Squirming on the couch, you grabbed onto the cushioned as he pleasured you, coaxing you toward the end of days, making you see stars beneath your closed eyelids. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, a warbled cry strangled completely as your legs locked out and walls tightened to vice grip his fingers. 

"Cum on me, mesh'la. Let it all out, come on," he encouraged, his fingers quickening over your clit, your soul absolutely rending as you as ecstasy drowns your senses, your muscles clench, and the scenery of the house falls away. You're floating, physical body panning away from you as you bliss out and disconnect from your breathing and deflating heart rate. You'd never had an orgasm this heart stopping, so utterly piercing that you couldn't even tell where you were anymore. 

Finally, you blinked out of your stupor, expecting to be left laying cock legged and messy, but instead you're in bed. Your actual bed, not the twin one that you had been sleeping in the past few weeks. Rolling your head to the side, you didn't see him, but you heard him in the adjoining fresher. You had underwear back on and a pair of pajama bottoms. 

What the heck was happening? Did it matter? You just hoped it wasn't ending anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please drop comments and let me know what you think! I'm also working on a much more long winded Mandalorian fic called Mandokar if you're interested in more details.
> 
> Follow me/message me on tumblr too where this will be crossposted - @spc4eva


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You continue to take care of the Mandalorian with the repairs on his ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK SO I wasn't expecting this much attention in one day y'all. You're giving me heart palpitations from all the love. HERE, have your courtesy chapter. I hate leaving fics lookin' like they finished because a 2nd chapter isn't out. I haven't decided what day of the week will be publish day. But I'll keep ya posted.
> 
> Also, ngl, reader is well endowed in the breast department. hate me. trust me, reader is gonna complain about it later about her back hurting.
> 
> cuz we smutty in this fic:  
> warning; oral sex m!receiving

Paz barely understood what was happening when he'd crash landed, falling out of hyperspace and being thrown around the hull of his ship like a tin can before crash landing. It was miraculous he'd survived with just broken ribs. An even bigger miracle that he'd been found. 

You were a pretty young lady with more hair than should be humanly possible, a ray of sunshine, and so hilariously goofy that Paz was smiling beneath his helmet half the time as you trotted in with meals for him, eying him beneath your mop of hair --- which you often tried to manage in a ponytail, though ringlets would fall free and cascade into your face smattered with a constellation of freckles. That's why he named you Tranyc -- Mando'a for sunny or quite literally translating to 'star-burned', because you were the ray of sunshine on his day while he was stuck in bed healing. You were good company, easy to talk to, never berated him despite how much of a burden he was. Took him less than a day to realize you were on your own, running the entire moisture farm on nothing but cultivated crops and several cups of caf a day. And despite how often you fumble over words, you were smart. 

There wasn't much to do and the highlights of Paz's day consisted of you spending time with him. You had piled all your holobooks near him, given him the remote for the television, and anything else you thought he might like while you wandered off to go make repairs and tend to your livelihood. You must've been tired. The farm was a fulltime job on its own and now you had to look after him. Paz felt guilty, because you'd not complained once, not asked him for credits or when he might be leaving. You were cautiously curious, but not impolite with your questions. Not many people would have chanced bringing a Mandalorian into their home, let alone a young woman on her own. That was what was different about you and maybe it had to do with Paz's sheer luck of landing on a relatively backwater planet where people weren't in fear of their lives constantly.

_ Paz had lucked out.  _

He hated feeling weak, being unable to walk on his own, but you were blissfully patient and kind, cracking jokes and making silly faces, telling him how he'd be good as new to start back up on hunting -- or whatever it was that Mandalorians did. And while he was eager to not have his ribs feel as if they'd been kicked in by a bantha, he was also ruing the countdown for when he'd have to return to his ship and leave you behind. Despite it being a few scant weeks, Paz liked you. Not just because you were pretty, but he found your demeanor relaxing. So when he managed to get to his feet to go to the kitchen and he saw your hair sticking out on the couch, he trotted over without an afterthought to check on you. 

He hadn't been expecting to see your coveralls crumpled on the floor and your beet red facing eying him in horror. Originally, he'd believed you were hurt from when he'd fallen on you. After all, you were a small thing. Despite being lean from working the farm you were dwarfed by him. And when the blanket had fallen over... Paz's mind began turning, the gears clicking into place, the disbelief that the pretty ray of sunshine had been caught in the midst of masturbating. To the thought of him. 

Until that point you'd been hospitable and courteous, it was the last thing he expected and dangling deliciously in front of him like a forbidden fruit. He more than owed you at this point. He owed you his life and getting you off wasn't really repayment. In fact, Paz had enjoyed it, thinking the situation was more self indulgent than selfless. You became putty in his hands, passing out from a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction. That brought a smile to his face -- well, there had already been a smile -- but it was bigger now. 

He didn't mind cleaning you up and putting you into some more comfortable clothing, tucking you into the large bed that had obviously been yours. He had found discarded hair elastics under the pillows and a few socks that had been lost to the depths of the sheets. You had taken care of him, he could manage picking up your tiny form and putting you to bed. You didn't come around until morning when Paz was up in the fresher, still testing his weight on his aching chest. 

"You can walk now," you popped your head through the open door, stating the obvious, but it made him smile that you weren't half as doleful as he'd thought you'd be after yesterday. "Um... I can make breakfast real quick and then there's something I wanna show you if you're up to it."

"If I'm up to it?" Paz rumbled, he still couldn't wear his armor, the weight would be too much of a burden. "How are you feeling?"

Your face brightened with blush immediately, matching the hue of your flaming locks at the sheer mention. "G-good, th-thank you."

The moment he'd put you to bed, he'd staggered off to the fresher to relieve himself and the throbbing erection he had from going through his ministrations. Not that you needed to know that he had been wanting more. Yesterday hadn't been about him. The last few weeks you had doted your attention on him. 

"Good."

You darted away, back in your usual attire which consisted of mechanic coveralls, boots, and a tightfitting short sleeve shirt in russet. Your arms were bared from the bicep down and you wore a pair of beat up leather gloves, hair cinched at the base of your neck with a straining scrunchie that fought desperately to contain all the curls which rebelled at being held against the back of your slightly too large overalls. 

Truthfully, you were very nervous over what had happened yesterday and even more distressed that you had slept away the entire freaking day. The hardworking farmer in you was berating you with every step,  _ unbelievable _ , you slept the entire day until breakfast. Now, when drifters had stayed and you had slept with them, you had woken up and prepared breakfast without an afterthought. There was no guilt, no twisting of nerves in your tummy, because you knew that what had happened was a simple arrangement of two lonely people breaking up the cobwebs. What happened with the Mandalorian should have felt the same, but it didn't. Only one man had stayed a few days and engaged in multiple trysts and by the end, he'd been asking you to leave behind the moisture farm to go adventuring with him. While that was a very... juicy prospect, you couldn't think about leaving behind the canyons you'd known your entire life. You loved it here, even if it was solitude and silence. 

From the views up on the plateau where your farm was located, a bird's eye view of the spanning clay walls, billowing in waves of amber, brown, and orange. Your favorite days were the overcast ones where the clouds would sweep low and fringe the mountaintops with mist. That was during the wet season when the lowest parts of the canyons would fill with turquoise water from the rain. The only freestanding water you'd ever gotten the luxury of seeing and it was still a trip on your speeder bike since you lived pretty high up on the plateaus. Wasn't that time of year though, it was still the dry season and so you had to keep regular maintenance on the farm to suck every bit of moisture up. 

You kept mostly grains on the farm, but had a few animals to include tip-yips which produced eggs. Otherwise, any greenery you had was produced in your greenhouse, utilizing misty puffs of water to keep it nice and humid inside. Without it, you certainly wouldn't have been getting enough nutrients to live out this remote. You would stock up on seed every six months and grow leafy greens, root vegetables, had a few berry bushes, and rhubarbs. They were genetically modified to have additional benefits, keeping you going and healthy. You loved checking in on them, standing in your little bubble of green, imagining other planets that looked just like it but instead of being in a little capsule -- the entire planet was green. That was hard to fathom, giving the landscape you'd grown up on, but so were oceans and you knew they existed. 

Jumbles followed you out to the coop, drooling all over the dirt as you scolded him for getting too close. His head drooped and he stayed behind while you picked out some fresh eggs and threw fodder out for the tip-yips. You knew if you didn't keep the birds carefully locked up, Jumbles would gobble them all up. "Calm down. I'll give you some eggs you beast," you chided as you stopped in the green house to pick a few vegetables and fruit before going back inside. You'd never wanted more aside from companionship and to not be alone. You loved your farm so much and all the work you had put into it. You loved this dry, arid planet and the raw beauty you got to witness. But you weren't perfectly content. 

You were lonely.

Paz was waiting in the kitchen at the table, which was funny, considering he couldn't actually eat with you. Humming to yourself, you put a pot of caf on and then frowned at 6PO, who wandered around aimlessly. "6PO please make yourself useful. Go sweep out the greenhouse if you can't decide on what to do," you sigh, the droid looking as confused as ever, before creaking out the front door.

"Where did you get that droid?" Paz asked curiously as you set a skillet on the stove and began heating it up.

"Found it," you shrug. "Wasn't in one piece, so I scavenged parts and put it all back together again. Some of the neural harnessing was missing, so the droid will never be complete unless I replace it entirely."

"You mean you reprogrammed it?" he actually sounded sort of impressed.

You rolled your shoulders again. "Yeah, suppose so. Wasn't too hard. Lots of trial and error... and caf." And time. During the wet season you had more time on your hands and so typically that's when you'd spend it on projects.

"How'd you learn how to do that? Droids are complicated pieces of tech."

"My dad taught me. He was an engineer, could run this whole place without even trying. Always knew how to fix everything," you gave a sad chuckle at the thought of your parents. You missed them so much. Maybe if they hadn't passed you wouldn't be half as lonely and feeling as if there was something missing in your life. "Studied on... Coruscant, I think? Before the war broke out. Round 20BBY he came out here with my mom and I because they wanted to avoid the fighting."

"And he taught you everything he knew," Paz assumed.

"Oh, well, I mean,  _ probably  _ not everything. He probably would have found a way to fix 6PO completely."

"Do you mind if I ask what happened?"

The corner of your mouth quirked involuntarily and you stared down at the pan as you began sautéing the cut up tubulars. "We get a wet season here every standard year. The canyons are vast, mostly stone, and not porous. My mother was sick, so they had to make a visit to the city which is a 2 day trip on bike. Usually, we don't leave during the wet season. Too dangerous. But mom's condition wasn't improving and so my father decided the risk was worth it. 

"In order to get to the city, you have to go through the canyons. This time of year, no big deal, but during the wet season? Can start raining without warning and when it does, the crevasses act as funnels, diverting water to the lowest point, which... you're catching my drift, right?" You glance up, not particularly fond of explaining how nature worked around here, especially when it had taken your parents from you.

"Flash floods?"

"Mm," you began cracking the eggs. "Can't outrun a flash flood. Not on a speeder bike. They drowned. So-" you drew in a sharp breath. You had rationalized this several times over. Never really talked about it, but it didn't make you cry anymore. This planet had been good to you. Better than most people could hope for when they settled on a farm. You knew that you were lucky because of that and you couldn't resent the planet even if it took your parents from you. "The Jawas found them a little while after that. They know us, we trade with them -- I still do -- and they brought my parents back for me. Despite what people say about them, they didn't ask me for payment."

"I'm sorry... was that six years ago?"

"Mhm," you confirmed, wiping your hands off and picking up a few eggs, cracking them over your massiff's eagerly waiting mouth. "Not your fault. Might be safe from raiders and looters, but it's a harsh unforgiving landscape. Sometimes you get too comfortable and forget about that. My dad knew the risks when he took my mother. They lived a good life, just wish they didn't have to go that way." You wish you hadn't been left alone. 

"Where's the closest neighbor aside from the Jawas?"

"Hundreds of miles," now you were plating the food and grabbing mugs for the caf. "The canyons are the best place to set up moisture farms. The deserts soak up all the water from the wet seasons, but due to the stone around here, it's a lot easier for moisture to be trapped in the vaporators. However, they're remote and a lot of the plateaus are too dangerous to set up on because the foundation of stone is likely to crumble. Only about three farms in all of the canyons and this is one of them. We're the highest producers of water on the planet, especially during the wet season. 'Bout the only time I see starships since the city will come and pick it up."

You slapped Jumbles on the nose as he leaned over the counter toward one of the freshly assembled breakfasts, causing him to whine. "Oh shut it you baby," you hadn't even hit him that hard, just a little boop on the nose and he was pretending you'd wailed into him. "Drama queen."

You brought Paz's food over for him and went to grab your own. "I can go outside. A few things I can start on before we head out."

"Sit down and eat first," he invited, which confused you, because how were the both of you going to eat with the whole helmet situation. "If you sit at the counter with your back to me, it'll be fine."

Oh, well that went against what he said about only removing his helmet when he was alone. But... that also meant he trusted you. How many opportunities did you have to remove his helmet? The first day you probably could have if you weren't terrified of being shot. Until you'd gotten to know Paz better, he had been the big scary Mandalorian and not the patient and easygoing one you knew now. "Are you certain? I mean, it's not a big deal. I eat on the go all the time," you object kindly, not wishing for him to feel obligated to have you in your own kitchen.

"Sit," he insisted.

"Well, I mean-" you grabbed a chair, mostly talking to yourself when you muttered those words and pulled it up to the counter. Jumbles was drooling on your leg, looking at you as if you hung the stars, which admittedly -- was quite cute except for the fact that you knew he just wanted your leftovers. 

"Where'd you get a massiff?" There was a click and a hiss, the helmet disengaging and being set on the table. You tried not to think about how easy it would be to turn around and finally get a look at him, focusing on your cup of caf instead.

"Kind of just... found him," you reveal, thinking about the day you'd stood toe to toe with the beast, your arms full of scrap metal, wondering if you were going to have to use the bacta shot after getting munched on by the creature. "Thought he was gonna try and eat me."

"It's wild?" Paz's voice was different, unmodulated. There was still the same warmth you were used to, but the lack of the radio static and translation from human to droid made your skin hot, little lances of static playing down your spine as the deep bass in its full glory.

"Uuuuh," you almost forget that you're eating, your egg falling off the fork and onto your lap. Jumbles gobbles it up before you even think about grabbing it. " _ Jee _ -uh-yeah. Started feeding him scraps, probably shouldn't have done that, and then he kinda just started listening to me. I read that on Tatooine Tusken Raiders keep them as hounds, so I thought that maybe they're just partial to bonding with sentient beings."

Honestly, you'd always been good with animals. An uncanny, unnatural, totally unexplainable ability you'd possessed since you were a kid and ran into a wild dewback and nearly pissed yourself. Instead of swallowing you whole, the dewback had palmed your hand and then trotted off. The canyons were host to a plethora of fauna, many of which were quite dangerous. Having Jumbles had actually saved your skin more often than not, as the canine was keen on keeping his source of food around. 

"When they're raised from pups they are," Paz informed you.

"Oooh. Well, I found Jumbles when he was an adult," you gave the dope a fond pat on the head. He leaned into your gloved grasp and  _ harrumph _ ed contentedly. "Maybe he was already trained and got lost." Yeah, that sounded more logical than your weird animal whispering abilities. "He's been good. If not for him, I don't think I would have found you. He's the one who led me over to your starship." And that's when you realized something. "H-hey, Jumbles is living and your helmet-"

"I'm not worried about a massiff seeing me," Paz chuckled. "I'm not going to shoot your dog."

"I-I didn't say you were," you stammer, heart fluttering a little bit as you gripped one of the massiff's spines to comfort yourself. He could very easily shoot your dog. Did he want to shoot your dog? You didn’t think so, but you weren’t keen on losing him. "Just you said no living thing and then you'd only take your helmet off alone..."

"No living sentient thing," he corrected, his silverware clattering before the helmet clicked back into place. A tiny wave of disappointment washed off you, almost as if you were expecting to get a little more time with his raw unfiltered voice. "Thank you for breakfast. Good as always." 

You blushed slightly at the compliment. It was just simple food, hearty enough to keep you going throughout the day. Standing up, you nearly whirled into the Mandalorian's chest as you went to retrieve his things for him. Catching yourself before you did, you offered an apologetic smile before frisking the plate from him and placing it in the sink for later. It was a sonic sink, you were very careful about how water was used. Only for food and growing plants. 

Out by the front door you grabbed your outing belt, which had your blaster and a set of tools that you'd been using. Picking up the sack beside it, laden with a few canteens, ration bars, and holobooks you glanced back at Paz. He still didn't have his armor on, but he did adorn his belt with a vibro-blade and pistol. "C'mon," you told him, offering a small wave before striding out the front door and into the crisp, sunny morning.

Drinking in a deep breath of dry air, you gave a dizzying and pleased smile before beginning to talk. "Now, I told you that I borrowed your speeder bike to get us back up here. There was a bit of damage to it since it took a beating during the crash. Most superficial, which I managed to get the dings out of the metal and replace the exhausts which were nearly crushed. Probably needs a new paint job, but I didn't have any paint laying around," you explained, bringing him over to the bike. You'd doted a bit of time on it, because you knew bikes and it was easy for you to fix. Plus it was nicer than the one you had on the farm, so you'd been using it to go back and forth between the ranch and his starship. 

Paz's helmet was craned down as he gave the bike a one over and your original pride began to fizzle out with each beat of silence. Finally, "You did a really good job. It... didn't take up too much of your time, did it?"

"Hm? Oh no, not at all. Bikes are easy, fixed plenty of bikes in much worse condition than this," you gave it a fond pat, relief flooding you that he wasn't upset that you'd fiddled with it. "But this isn't what I wanted to show you," you climbed on. "Hop on!"

Paz chuckled at your overexuberance, the way the bike looked much too big for someone of your stature. Afterall, it was his bike and so he'd gotten one that would fit his physique. Your arms were stretched upward to meet the accelerators and it was quite comical from the dopey, excited smile on your face to the way your legs barely reached the stirrups. He sat on behind you, edging up comfortably so that his thighs framed you. 

"Might wanna hang on," you warned mischievously. 

"What, this isn't going to be a leisurely ride?"

"The canyons look much the same when boxed in. Trust me, just hang on," you told him, feeling your cheeks roll was heated pleasure as strong arms encircled you and his pelvis pressed tighter to your backside. Oh, that felt really good, almost enough that you could lean back into his strong embrace and relax as you started this ride. But... No. You chased away the devious thoughts and tried not to fixate on the sturdy Mandalorian behind you as you revved the engine. It purred like a loth-cat, humming deliciously before you kicked off and started whistling down the hill and into the chasm that led into the canyons. 

He wasn't expecting how quickly the two of you rocketed off. Arms tensing around you to prevent himself from sliding right off as gravity snared him, he let out a breathy laugh. "You weren't kidding."

"Tried to warn you," you laughed at him, shouting over the din of the motors that echoed against the canyon walls. Bowing your head ever so much, you went up another gear and stuck the wide turn. He grabbed on again, his chest now flush to your back as you dared to accelerate again. 

"Where-" his voice was breathless in your ear. "Where did you learn how to drive like this?"

"Mom," you grin. "Dad was the engineer. Mom was the podracer."

"Kriff!" he cursed as you hooked the bike, reversed the thrusters, and then sputtered a sharp turn that should not have been possible except for the trick maneuver. During down time and on your long journeys to the city, you'd picked up a thing or two from your mother. Speeder bikes were easy compared to podracers, she'd tell you. Small, streamline, and capable of quite a few tricks if you understood the inertia, gravity, and capabilities of the machine you were on. Passing the signs out for the Jawas, you curved the halt, brakes slamming as the sideways turn kicked up clay sand and dust. He was still clinging to you even after you'd stopped.

"Did I frighten the big Mandalorian?" you teased, his vice grip finally relenting after taking a moment to realize that you stopped. 

Paz's muscles were vibrating from the adrenaline filling him from helmet to boot from the ride. The last thing he'd been expecting from you, the little farmhand mechanic, were daring turns and hiking the bike up to full speed without as much of an ounce of panic as you tried to take a 90 degree turn. Even Paz wasn't as gutsy with a bike to attempt what you had done, but you'd stuck the turn gloriously and were laughing at him now. He hadn't realized that he could like you more, but you were filled with pleasant little surprises. 

"Can you podrace too?" he countered as he let you go and you hopped down, springy, unaffected and brimming with joy. Your hair was scattered a bit, a few curls puffing loose from your scrunchie.

"Never tried, but can't be too difficult," you reply. Not arrogance or mock confidence, just... the comprehension of someone who knew a lot about machines and how they worked. "Now, come take a look. Gotta talk to you about somethings-" you padded away, leaving Paz to dismount and trail after you. 

The ship still had a hole in the hull, landing gear squashed, but the supply crates had been moved back inside. For something that had crash landed, Paz was astonished how intact it appeared. The reason for his confusion was soon explained as you brought him inside and he saw that wires had been soldered off and repairs had been made. 

"So, I've been heading out here when I can to make sure the thing didn't leak its fuel lines everywhere," you started, gesturing to the neatly arranged containers. "Now, I'm not a starship mechanic, but I have a few old holobooks and the manual that was laying around in here. I read up on them and was able to figure out that the fuel line was cut -- managed to fix that -- and the engines were running at 10% capacity after debris got sucked in. That's how the thing didn't explode on impact, the thrusters were still working enough that it padded your landing. 

"Landing gear is shot. I don't have any lifts strong enough to hoist the ship up or the proper caliber of steel to fix the hull. I got the engines to bout 50%, so theoretically that should get you to the spaceport on the other side of the planet. Gonna be crunchy, don't know what's hiding underneath here. So you've got a few options -- try your best to get to the spaceport and the pay for repairs there, you can try to get off planet, though next planet over is Tatooine and you'd pay an arm and a leg for shoddy repairs, or we can try trading with the Jawas. They've got their sandcrawler which might have the capability of picking your ship up, but won't be cheap. Even with my connections they're gonna want something good."

Paz was flabbergasted and at a loss for words as he looked at the work you'd done on top of the farm, on top of taking care of him, and how candid you were about what solutions he had going forward. "How did you have the time to do all this?" he asked.

"Hm?" you were looking over at a few wires that needed to be routed properly. "Uh, lots and  _ lots  _ of caf."

No wonder you had passed out for over 16 hours yesterday. Additionally, you'd read dry holobooks on starships and for what? To help him? At this point he knew that you weren't expecting anything out of it. He'd not been to a lot of backwater planets, but he was beginning to realize that people like you were more common in these quiet remote locations, just happy to be helping. Why that nearly broke him right there, he couldn't say, but he was absolutely moved by your selfless compassion that you didn't even really acknowledge, because it was all so natural to you. A little gem in the canyons, hiding up on your plateau farming water. 

"What do I owe you? Repairs like this cost a lot... you've saved me a lot of credits, Tranyc."

You were a little distracted, admittedly, your eyes finding the problems you hadn't remedied yet. "Owe me?" you repeated before finally looking back toward the visor. "You're my guest. Don't worry about it. Consider it a little bit of desert hospitality. There's still some work I need to do, haven't gotten round to it, but I figured you'd want to see your ship."

He didn't owe anything.  _ How didn't he owe anything?  _ Paz was shell shocked as you turned away, removing a set of pliers from your tool belt as you started working on the frayed wires that were getting on your nerves. People always wanted something, no matter how minute or simple it was and yet... You were fiddling along, pleased as a womp rat in sand you continued to chug along as if he weren't even there. And you'd learned how to do this in weeks? Taught yourself how to do it? Your parents had to have been smart and if your father studied at university on Coruscant -- you might've been modest about it, but that meant he'd imparted the same years of study into you while you grew up. 

He knew how to make baseline repairs, how to weld, and keep the ship from falling apart. What you were doing -- he had no idea how to do. Truthfully, the gunship needed a lot of work before it was going to be good enough to leave the planet and you were correct -- parts were needed. Sitting on a storage crate, he placed his helmet in his palm and rubbed his aching ribs, trying to think of which path would be the best option. Going to the spaceport meant that he'd leave you behind. He also didn't know how much repairs were going to cost on this planet. Flying to Tatooine was just a bad decision all around, who knew if the ship could handle it. Then trading with Jawas... It would keep him around you for a bit longer and you knew the Jawas. He was bound to have something that they wanted aboard the  _ Kote _ . He could also use a talented mechanic, but somehow doubted that you'd be willing to part with your farm. 

The way you'd talked about your home, you were very proud of it and you loved the landscape. But still... all alone... he didn't like the thought of that. Even if this planet was relatively safe, what if the Jawas found your body in the canyon ravines? 

He had been lost to his thoughts as you worked, the ship heating up in the midday sun. You'd flipped down the straps of your coveralls to work and that's when he noticed. A thin sheen of sweat decorated your arms, a few curls sticking to your face as you hunched over the controls for his cryo chamber. But that wasn't what attracted his attention. No, it was the swell of your breasts beneath the fitted shirt you wore, the perky mounds that were well sized for your slender form. The fabric left little to the imagination, mostly because you weren't wearing a bra. Why would you? You lived on your own and bras were awful, constricting things that made you even clammier on hot days. Plus they were stupidly expensive. 

The coveralls usually kept them hidden, but with the thick panel of fabric cast down, Paz was staring. He'd been distracted by your lower half yesterday, but not his fixation was on the top. How could you look so good in just a tight fitting shirt that didn't betray any cleavage? He estimated that each would be more than a handful for him, the nipples pressing through the fabric and you didn't notice, completely unaware of the lack of decorum because you were a farmer and those sort of things probably didn't pop into your mind. Which was why he felt a tiny bit ashamed watching you, eying you from the protective mask of his helmet. Would you want him to touch you again? You had told him that you'd been getting off to him, but perhaps that was in the moment when he'd caught you.

Neither of you had broached the subject this morning, but nor were you being incredibly demure or shy. You were just being normal. 

"Wanna toss me a canteen from in there?" you asked, pointing to the bag you'd dumped by the hole in the hull. 

Paz tore his eyes away, glancing down, retrieving the requested item. Tossing it to you, you caught it and upcapped it, taking a few generous gulps and spilling some on yourself. He gritted his teeth as you wiped your mouth, the soft plush lips having been locked around the rim, the water seeping into your shirt. Your shirt.  _ Dank farrik. _ Now he was staring again, hopelessly pressing his palms together as he tried to keep it together. Stars, he wanted more of you than just the bit of pleasure he'd brought yesterday, but it wasn't his place to take it. You'd already gone above and beyond in assisting him and so he couldn't just ask you to sleep with him, no matter how much he wanted it. That felt... wrong. Like a dirty, awful thing to request after he'd come to like you -- only utilizing you for your body in the end and not the company he'd grown fond of.

"Did you think about what you're gonna do?" you ask him, drawing his visor back up to you.

"The Jawas--" his voice was kinda hoarse, which made you tilt your head. "Might have something on here that they'd like."

A smile unfurled on your face, because secretly you'd been praying that he'd choose that option. Just stealing more time with the Mandalorian, despite the fact that he was stranded. You didn't want him to leave, but it was going to happen eventually, just like it did with everyone else who came here. Everyone left. Everyone but you and the animals. You were pretty sure you were gonna cry like a baby when the Mandalorian finally departed. "I can send 'em a transmission tonight. Probably will take them the better part of a day to get here, but they'll come."

"Thank you again," Paz insisted, but you brushed it off with a silly and overly dramatic hand wave. 

"There's gotta be some kindness in this galaxy. 'Else it'd be a sad, miserable, hopeless place," you counter, springing back to your feet, dusting your gloves off animatedly. "Let's finish up in here and then head back. Got some work I have to do on the farm too."

* * *

Sonic showers weren't the best, but they were all that you knew. Aside from when the rain would billet down during the wet seasons, you didn't know what an actual water shower felt like. Either way, you needed to get the sweat and grime off of you by the end of each day, so you trotted out with your pajamas on and into the Mandalorian. You'd already contacted the Jawas and were getting ready to tuck in for the night when he caught you. "Oof, sorry... I-I didn't hurt your ribs did I?" Your eyes flitted to where his injury was immediately.

"I'm fine," he assured you, large hands butterflied against your sides where he'd caught you from doing too much damage by trolloping right into his chest. Big. His hands were big. So large that they covered your ribs entirely when gripping your sides. They lingered, the skin beneath growing hot and beginning to tingle. Then he removed them, as if he were worried about overstaying his welcome. 

Your skin sighed where he released and you glanced up chewing your lip. "Um..." uncertain -- you didn't know where this was going, but why the hell not. What did you have to lose? He was stuck here until his ship was going to be fixed. "Yesterday--"

"I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have done that," Paz interrupted, launching your heart up into your throat.

" _ Wha _ -no, I liked it," you assured him, feeling courageous enough to take his hands in yours. Maker, you looked like a child, holding those large calloused palms in yours. "I... wouldn't mind more. I-i-if that's what you want, of course," you sputtered, cheeks sweltering and ears about to rocket off from the intense embarrassment you felt in suggesting such a thing. It'd been easier before. You could see the faces of your guests, gauge what they were thinking, see the lust in their eyes that you could give right back. They'd never stayed this long, never gotten to know you this well, and... you didn't want to make him uncomfortable because you felt a little horny with him around. But Maker, how was that not possible? He was an absolute unit, pure muscle, easy conversation, and had a voice that shattered your resolve like an earthquake.

"Would I want more?" he repeated slowly and your stomach sunk into the abyss, blood draining from your face. The leap of faith had been in vain and instead of swan diving into water, you'd hit stone. And then suddenly his hands were on your chest, driving the air from your in uncontrolled gasps as he squeezed. "Maker--" he cursed, vocoder breaking up as you almost melted on the spot. "So... you're so mesh'la. Had my eyes on you all day while you were working. You're such... a distraction."

He wasn't rough, despite holding onto your breasts, moving carefully over the fabric as he caressed you. In the past, your chest had been a fixation of other lovers because you were well endowed and you were accustomed to rough squeezing to the point where it was painful. It was almost as if most men just wanted to push them until they popped or just liked the pillowy sensation of squeezing and didn't care much for how it felt for you. They were bloody sensitive and you didn't appreciate them being manhandled -- except for right now, right now was good. Better than good in fact. 

"Distraction? I'm the one doing all the work," you mumbled, leaning into his touch as he palmed you and rubbed circles over your breasts, the nipples stiffening beneath the fabric and dimpling it. "While you just... just sit there."

"I'm still hurt," he didn't sound very convincing, maybe that wasn't the point. 

"Too hurt to be doing anything too... arduous," you pointed out, humming as he gave another gentle squeeze. "Last night did you-- I sort of just--" passed out. Say it. You passed out and left him there with an erection. That couldn't have been too pleasant. To top it off with a cherry, he'd put you to bed with clothes on. 

"I took care of things, mesh'la. You left me with some... good visuals," his thumb was circling your nipple, still separated by your shirt, the careful flicking making you shudder. Your entire body was reacting, legs weak and the same radiating heat vibrating between your thighs. 

"Bu-ut it couldn't have been that great. N-not like..." you fell off, head lolling slightly as his hands flipped the hem of your shirt and began cruising the plane of your tummy, scratching its way to your breast. A hot palm met skin, a low moan echoing as he grasped you firmly, but not too hard. 

"Stars, you're so soft," he murmured, pushing the shirt up -- higher and higher until your breasts were revealed to the air. "Maker, look at you."

The praise made your thighs clench together. They didn't usually talk. Not as much as Paz was, which was somewhat ironic considering he had a helmet on and was a mysterious Mandalorian and yet he filled your ears up as he roamed you. No, it was all typically rushed, frenzied, and to sate both parties. Honestly, the sate part was just the rutting, having to take your own hands to your clit while your past lovers plowed into you. There was no copious foreplay aside from a little making out and breast squeezing and while they'd called you pretty, it never really felt the same as the way as Paz's voice. The way in which he was breathy, as if he couldn't believe his eyes, and that you'd been put on the planet delicately by the Maker himself. It made your heart rush, galloping forward, and it made you want him more.

"Le-let me," you found your hands, having been savoring his exploring before brushing the hem of his trousers. You had felt him, sort of, yesterday but you didn't actually know what was beneath the belt. From how tall and broad he was, you had an assumption of what was there. "Y-you're still hurt, s-so..." pitifully tinny, your voice was sliding away as you offered to give him something in exchange for what he'd done for you.

"Mesh'la... I-you have already done so much-" he protested. 

"But yesterday--" you were whining now, hand coasting down more until you cupped his groin, feeling his length twitch. He was already hard. You weren't even undressed and he was already rock solid. "It'll feel better this way."

"Is... is that what you want?"

You nod, waiting for permission.

He couldn't say no. Not while your palm was between his legs and you were staring up at him with big, round, imploring eyes. In fact, he didn't think he could possibly deny you anything, removing his hands, the shirt falling back down over your spectacular chest. "I- _ Yes, _ " he confirmed, drawing a shaking breath which made his ribs ache. 

You undid the belt buckle, hands scrambling slightly from nerves before undoing the buttons. Coming down on your knees didn't really work, there was still too much of a height difference, forcing you to half-crouch as your fingers slipped beneath the fabric of his boxes and untucked his manhood. Now it was your turn to be wordless. You had expected it, but expecting and witnessing were two very different things. He was massive, just the sight of him making your core twitch painfully, imagining trying to accommodate him, doubting that he'd even be able to fully sheath himself in you without pushing into your tummy.  _ If _ he could even get in. 

Ok, so when you had offered to do this you thought he would fit in your mouth. Doubt welled in your stomach and he must have noticed as you stared down his cock, brushing a hand over your loose hair. "You don't have to-" he soothed. But the challenge spurned you on, undaunted and a little over zealous to be honest. 

"You'll tell me... what you like?" you had just flattened your tongue against the weeping head of his cock, licking like a kitten, lathing him before you'd attempt to take more. 

His thighs shook and he gave a terse nod. 

You weren't extremely experienced in this field. Just enough that you knew now not to bite someone. But this wasn't just 'someone'. You liked Paz a lot and wanted it to feel good for him. To chase away the pain in his chest and to show how much you appreciated what he'd done for you. Guys liked blowjobs, didn't they? That's why they were requested so much, you just assumed that he'd like it all the same, and honestly you wanted to become more intimate with his cock after feeling it pressed beneath your leg. 

You ran your tongue along his shaft, trailing back around before leaving saliva. Your hand smoothed the wetness over him, pumping a few times over his length to help lubricate him. Then you made your first attempt, tongue over your lips as you pushed his girth into the damp chasm of your mouth. He groaned, fingers tightening in your hair, which gave you the courage to take him deeper. The head of his cock met the resistance of the back of your throat and you gagged, eyes watering and jaw aching. "Relax, mesh'la. Relax your throat-" he managed gently through tight breaths. 

Easier said than done, forgetting to breathe, your throat clenching, you were forced to pull away for a moment.

Spittle trailed down your plush lips, cheeks flushed wildly as you considered your next approach. You were a sight for sore eyes, Paz's own glued to you as you gasped for air. You'd bitten off more than you could chew, but he admired your undaunted commitment as you sank back onto him and closed your eyes, clutching onto his leg for balance. This time, you were able to take his guidance better, breathing through your nose before easing your throat. Your mouth was small, tight, and damp. With the accomodation of the back of your throat, Paz's hips bucked and a strangled moan crackled through the modulator. 

"G-good.  _ Fuck _ \-- so good, mesh'la," he praised, beginning to move in tandem with you, fucking deeply into your throat. Your face was hot and wet, tears leaking out from your eyes at the sensation of your throat being stretched. The noises were wet and sloppy, punctuated by sharp hums as you tried to do well, to do what he wanted, to keep going -- but Maker, it hurt. Your attention was fixated completely on pleasing him, forgetting entirely about your own climbing heat, just trying not to clench your throat or forget to breathe through your nose. Then you dared it, reaching up and grabbing his balls, massaging them in your palm gently as he pushed into you. "Ahh- oh, fuck-- I'm going to cum. Do you want me to--"

You managed the smallest nod, squeezing him tighter as his thrusts rocked you, shattering almost all your resolve as you gagged. Ropes of cum splattered in the back of your throat, your lips suctioning to him as he stuttered to a halt, palm on the back of your head. His skin was like velvet on your tongue, slightly salty, but smooth and soft. Lavishing the last drops from his cock like precious water from the desert. In fact, it was more precious than water, more rare. 

"Mesh'la... ohh," he keened softly, his hand spreading over your hair, petting you, brushing the curls from your face - which was wet with spilled tears, saliva, and a little cum. Releasing him from your sweet mouth, he brushed the white droplets from the corner of your lips, which you sucked off after it being offered. "W-what did I do?"

You tilted your head in confusion.

"What did I do to deserve you?"

You tried to talk, but your voice crackled in the back of your throat, so hoarse and quiet that you simply shut your mouth and blinked.  _ Oh fuck. _ Had he broken your vocal chords? Panic began to seize you and you clutched his leg and offered a very broken, "UhhhmmMm."

He bent down, cupping your face, holding it between his palms as he took a good look at you. "I was a little too rough, wasn't I?"

"S'okay," fuck that hurt. Hurt to talk. Least you still had a voice.

"What do you want? Do you want me to--" His helmet was so close, almost brushing your nose as he looked at you. For a brief moment, you felt as if you were gazing into his eyes. What color were they? Brown? Green? Hazel? Maybe blue? 

You shook your head and gave him a weary smile. That had literally taken everything out of you and you just wanted a cold glass of water and to curl up in bed. "Water. Sleep?..." you had to swallow again, struggling to get the words out. "W-with you?"

"Just... that?"

Oh no, had you chosen wrong? Did he really want to play with you? Honestly, you were good. Just making him finish had been enough for you. Your legs and throat ached, it had been a long day. You offered a dejected nod. No one ever really cuddled with you and you assumed that he'd be warm, comfortable, and feel like a blanket of protection. You wanted to feel that, even if only just once. Having sex wasn't as important as this to you. Sure, sex with him would probably be amazing, but you didn't want to overexert him because you were being greedy. Despite getting it infrequently, you'd never gotten a good cuddle. Not since you were a little girl and curled up in your parents' arms.

"Ok, ok, mesh'la," he agreed, smoothing your hair again before pushing his helmet to your brow. The gesture lit your cheeks up and felt... strangely intimate. Cool beskar kissing your sweating skin, chasing away the sweltering blush and just a thin layer between you and the Mandalorian. It felt like a kiss, but it wasn't. So gentle and tender that you let it linger and closed your eyes. "C'mon, it's been a long day," he muttered, gripping you beneath your elbow and guiding you to your feet. Your bed was just a few paces away and you were already dressed for it. 

Who would have thought that a Mandalorian could be this... kind? From all the stories you'd heard, you had half-expected him to be a broody tin can that barely offered you the time of day. But there was a man underneath, a man who had desires, who had feelings, and who could be delicate. He wasn't all blasterfire, beskar, and war -- he was still a man. 

He put you into bed, leaving the room for a moment to get a glass of water. You smiled at his return, accepting the offered water, and gulping it down. Your throat ailed and your jaw was already beginning to groan in protest. But the water helped. Putting it down on the nightstand, the Mandalorian removed his boots and climbed into bed with you, just trousers and an undershirt. Offering an open arm, his impressive bicep being revealed from beneath the short sleeve of his shirt. 

You snuggled forward, heart pounding solidly in your ears as you tucked into his side. Maker, you loved this, the way his arm coiled around you, planting against the small of your back before tugging you in tightly. It wasn't as if you didn't feel safe in your home, you always did, but this was different. You trembled slightly because you'd yearned for this proximity, not just a rush of passion, but what came after and the security of him. From the strength of his muscles, to heat of his skin to yours, and the smell of him so close. This is what had been missing. The last piece to the puzzle that was home, the rut in your belly and soul curling pleasantly as you melted into him.  _ Please never end. _ But you knew morning would come and one day he'd have to leave like everyone else. And you knew that day would be soul shattering. Because once again, you'd be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Paz fluff is probably my favorite thing to write. This fic is undoing me. Goddammit. 
> 
> Comment and/or follow me on tumblr @spc4eva
> 
> I don't bite, so feel free to hmu there too if you've got cute ideas for scenes between the reader/paz.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You help repair the Kote and enjoy the Mandalorian's company. But nothing good ever comes without a price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sundays are going to be posting days just like Mandokar. I've decided to also add the two of them to a collection since they'll be in the same universe; so Paz has a sister who is with Din. 
> 
> warning; oral sex f!receiving, unprotected sex

So Jawas were alright.

They were kind of finicky because most of the time they were thieving little bastards and you really had to keep your eye on them. Sure, they could do nice things, they'd proven that before when they had brought back your parents' bodies without asking for payment. But... the moment they actually got to take a look at Paz's ship you knew you were in for it. They fucking _wanted_ it. The entire thing. All of it. Your signs must've done a good job, because they hadn't come into the sheltered alcove where it was hidden like a lost treasure. The road led up to your farm, but the smoke churning up from the ship typically would've drawn them in like moths to a flame. Now the robed midgets were milling around, chirping in their language, and billeting Paz with questions that he couldn't understand. 

"What do they want?" Paz looked to you for guidance.

"Your whole ship," you laugh before glancing down at the lead Jawa, Tho Qeohe. You reasoned with him, discerning, in the past, the Jawas only by the different belts of items that they adorned their robes in. This ship belonged to someone, you were looking for assistance in standing it up and the appropriate parts to make the last repairs, which would probably include scrap metal, any engine parts, and landing gear. 

_Make it worth it._ What was there to offer that would be worth parting with that many materials and the addition of assistance? Jawas did not work for free and nor did they do favors, despite how long they'd known you. 

"They said you have to make it worth their while. They'd be willing to give the parts, but a good trade will be expected. Do you have anything... rare on your ship?" You ask Paz finally after quietly debating with Tho. Immediately, the Jawa pointed at his armor, which he had donned today. You shook your head, explaining that he was Mandalorian and the beskar was off the table entirely. There was an aggravated huff of dismay, Tho convinced that there would be little worthwhile that could otherwise be exchanged for all those parts. _Unless..._

Oh-ho-ho the little buggers were trying to be cheeky now, tugging on your pant leg and gibbering excitedly. No, you needed your tip-yips, they were your solid source of protein. 

"I have a camtono of Exonium that was looking to sell once I got to the right spaceport," Paz offered, which... which was actually a good offer. You blink a few times and explain to the Jawas that the Mandalorian is willing to trade in his camtono of the fossil fuel. 

Not enough. Maybe two camtonos, but not just one. Groaning, you rub your face and consider again. You could part with a few tip-yips and perhaps request that Paz took you to the city so you could acquire a new bacta shot and tip-yips. Fine. The freaking birds could go, but Paz would have to take you back to the city because you needed the eggs. 

"I've come to an arrangement," you admit grudgingly. Why did these little assholes like eggs so much? They were chanting the awful word over and over again. "They'll take the camtono of Exonium and..." You grumble about your tip-yips, hoping that he wouldn't hear you.

"They want your chickens too?"

"Yeah, they're being brats. Jawas really like eggs," you explained, huffing a breath and crossing your arms over your chest. "I'd hate to be a bother, but I'm going to need a ride to the city in order to get more. I can't live out here without a solid, renewable source of protein."

"A bother?" Paz rumbled, a chuckle crackling in the edge of his vocoder. "Tracyn... I owe you considerably more than being a taxi to the city. I'll buy the tip-yips for you. And the bacta shot you had to use."

Well... that was a fair deal... right? You wanted to ask him to throw his shiny bucket into the mix and just stay here, but that would've been crossing a line. Smiling dolefully, you turned back to Tho -- the sweet smile being replaced by a grimace and begrudging glare, which on you was not at all intimidating. Actually, it was sort of comical and Tho laughed at your attempt to posture in front of the Mandalorian. 

Jawas were restless buggers and got their work underway immediately. You had to supervise, mostly because you could hear them being evel kenivals and had to thump a few of their heads to keep them from worming their grubby hands into places they shouldn't. It was going to be a long few days. Thankfully, the one saving grace you'd gotten out of all of this was that Jawas knew tech. Be that droids, starships, cruisers, speeders -- you could name anything and they'd know it. You had rapport with them, despite the fact you had to chastise them at least four times every hour. By nature, they were sneaksie monsters. So you used that to your advantage, because they didn't want to spend more time than was necessary to keep up their end of the bargain.

They had the proper lifts and equipment to hoist the ship up, which you learned was called the _Kote_ . Pieces of metal slopped off, just as you'd predicted and it made you wince. The _Kote_ was old, but before this dogfight, actually seemed as if it had been in good condition; well maintained and kept up to date. The Jawas fussed, complained, kicked and cried like petulant children about being put to work instead of thieving. But they helped. Again, they didn't want to be there forever and so they helped solder parts on, repair the hull, and even Tho had gone as far to berate you for improperly wiring connections to the engine. Jawas were intelligent, no matter how much people looked down on them, they knew what they were doing. 

By the end of the third day you were a fucking mess. Your muscles were trembling, fending off exhaustion and hyped up on gallons of caf. But you couldn't go to sleep. Not when the Jawas were here. Not when they could pilfer things when you weren't keeping hawk eyes on them. 

Paz had tried to get you to rest, but you couldn't. He didn't speak their language or know what little shits they could be. You sort of loved how annoying they could be, in their own unique way, but you also knew that you were the glue bonding this entire arrangement together. 

"You need to rest, Tracyn," he insisted as you dropped the wrench for the fourth time in under 10 minutes. 

"Al-almost done," you insisted, managing to pin a puffy glare over at a Jawa who was eying your wrench. They knew you were testy now, each hour that passed knocking off another bit of your ever vanishing patience. Actually, you were probably in the sphere of negative patience.

"The Jawas are packing up. Tracyn... _Tracyn please_ , you're going to kill yourself from exhaustion and the heat-" Paz grabbed your shoulders, steering you away from the landing gear that you had continued to work on. You managed to stick your tongue out at the nearest Jawa before being brought into the _Kote_. Your eyes blinked a few times, cutting the difference from the brightness of day and the dim of the hull. Maker, had it really been three days? Your brain was fried and you were working on fumes. "Hey... hey can you hear me?"

Had he been talking? You blink again, finally focusing on the snapping fingers beside your ear. "Hmm?"

"You need to go to sleep," Paz decided firmly.

"B-but," you were too emotional for this right now. Immediately your eyes began to fill up with tears. You were letting him down. What if the Jawas started stealing stuff? You were almost done. Just a couple more hours and it would've been good to go. "I can do it. I still have enough energy. Maybe another cup of caf will do the trick."

"You've drank enough to fuel a starship," Paz reminded you duly, brushing away the frustrated tears from your eyes. "C'mere, shh now. You're just over tired-" he grabbed you, pulling you into an embrace on his chest. The cool beskar felt good against your clammy skin, neck lolling naturally into the crook beneath his helmet. "Maker I would have never guessed you had so much energy in you. And all you want are tip-yips and a bacta shot for this?"

"I'm a simple girl," you sniffle in defeat. "And I like eggs just as much as Jawas."

His chest rumbled and you felt the laugh before you heard it, but the sound relaxed your warbling, his hands sliding underneath you before cradling you like a child. Had you been in a more sensible state of mind, you might've protested in worry that he could be hurting his ribs. While he felt strong enough to don his armor again, that didn't mean that the lingering injury wasn't hidden beneath. He was taking you deeper into the ship, opening the door to a room that was dimly lit. Your lashes were fluttering, sleep trying to smother you completely, but you rebelled against it - trying to figure out what was going on.

He was setting you down on a bed, ooh Maker the bed felt so nice. There were furs and blankets, so this wasn't your bed. Didn't have fur on your bed. Smelled like him -- blaster residue, leather, oil, and some kind of soap... you couldn't place it because you didn't use soap in a sonic shower like a water one. But it was nice. "Hmmm," a soft moan emanated from your throat and you'd all but forgotten you hadn't cleaned off in three days either since beginning your crusade to finish fixing the _Kote_. You were out within seconds of your head touching the pillow.

Paz pulled off your boots for you. You'd passed out completely after being set down, all flustered and moody. He'd tried to stop you earlier, only receiving a few combative looks, which included you puffing out your cheeks like a frog and raising your shoulders in a mock attempt to seem bigger than you were. You weren’t mean or off putting; you were determined and willful. He had also been helping where he could with welding, since he wasn't completely useless when it came to repairs. But you didn't stop. Even he had taken a few breaks, trying to coax you into shutting your eyes for a few minutes, but you'd scarfed down your rations, inhaled a cup of caf, and went back to work. Honestly, it was quite admirable and cute. 

You'd given up your tip-yips to get him these parts, part of your survival to make certain he could get off this orange rock. Now that the ship was nearly complete, he was beginning to realize he didn't really want to. He liked waking up to someone making him breakfast, someone to have easy conversation with, to just... relax around. Being Mandalorian meant he didn't often have these down times. He constantly had to have his head on a swivel, watching his back, finger ready on the trigger. But these weeks, despite the pain from his injury, had been calming. _You_ were calming. 

The more he saw you in your element, the more he realized how strong you were. Not in a physical aspect, but mentally. It took a certain kind of person to be able to live out on their own without falling into an abysmal depression. You took each day as it was, put a foot forward while smiling, and had one of the most chipper, cheery dispositions he'd ever had the honor of crossing paths with. To top that off, you were an excellent mechanic, engineer, and he liked your food. Your silliness was a coping mechanism and part of your undeniable charm. And Paz was falling hard for you, maybe just as hard as his ship had crashed to this planet and the canyons nearest to your farm. 

Even now, he couldn't keep his gaze off of you, all oil smeared, hair a mess of curls, tangled and dirty from laying in the sand and fixating on the task at hand. He had to give it to you, you were capable of inhuman feats of fixation. He wished half the Foundlings he taught were capable of even an ounce of your tempered focus. You were the type that if you set your mind to something, you'd read all the books you could get your hands on before trying to learn how to do it yourself. 

And now with the _Kote_ in good condition, Paz knew that your time together was coming to a close. He had to get back to the Tribe, to the planet the covert had relocated on, and that meant leaving you behind. He really wanted to ask you to come with him, perhaps as a crewmate to help around the ship, but because he wanted the chance to explore these growing feelings... but your farm. You loved the blasted thing so much and he couldn't take that from you. He doubted you'd want to go. For now, he'd enjoy what time he had left with you; his little ray of sunshine.

* * *

You woke up, still groggy and bone weary from your three day stint of making repairs. Maker, why hadn't you listened and just set your head down, because you felt like shit right now. Glancing around, you noticed that you were in some sort of chamber, which appeared to be on a ship from metal walls and floor. Oh. This must've been Paz's room on the _Kote_ . It was coming back to you. The _Kote_ was a decent enough sized gunship that it had a captain's cabin and crew quarters. You remembered because you had been inside fixing things.

The corners of your mouth quirked and you grabbed the canteen of water sitting by the side of the bed, taking a few generous gulps before getting up. Oh... oh you were gross. Three days of sweltering heat, dirt, grime, and oil. Fuck, why had he put you in his bed? You were literally as smelly as a womp rat. Arms held out slightly, you waddle around, trying to locate the Mandalorian. Outside the cabin, you found him over by an open arsenal, jaw dropping at the ensemble of weapons that were hung neatly. Shit, you knew that Mandalorians considered weapons their religion, but you didn't think one person needed quite that many.

Paz turned and caught you staring, your arms still held out as it felt too grimy to put them back down. "How're you feeling, mesh'la?"

"Better," you admit honestly. "Dirty."

"Go wash up in the fresher," he offered, pointing in its direction.

"Uhm," you considered it for a beat before glancing back at him. "How do I use it?" That felt like a stupid question, but honestly you didn't know how. Sonic showers you just pressed a button to turn on. Water had things like... pressure valves, gauges, and _oh dear lord_ you were overthinking something so simple but that's what you did. Everything was methodical up in that brain of yours and managing water flow and heat seemed overly complex. 

Paz got up and escorted you to the fresher, which was big enough to accommodate a good sized person, such as himself. A toilet, a sink, and a large shower. There was just one knob. "You turn it like this and then twist it this way if you want it warmer," he demonstrated by turning it on, water hissing like a snake and making you jump back into him. He didn't laugh at you, which made your thankful, cheeks burning as you watched it pitter down like rain into the drain. "I have some spare clothes you can borrow."

That you could borrow? One of his shirts was going to be a tent on you! But... your coveralls were filthy. "Thanks." He left you to it, closing the door behind him as you faced your newest challenge: taking a shower in water. Now, you'd been rained on before, but you'd never taken a shower in it. Clearing your throat, you began stripping, peeling off the offensive and smelly articles, before standing awkwardly in front of the shower. Finally, you tested it with a hand, snapping it back as if you'd been burnt. Oh, ok... so just wash in it... Seemed wasteful, but then again other planets weren't as water starved. Other planets were green and had oceans. Some had ice. 

You'd like to see them if it didn't mean leaving your farm. But how would that be possible? 

Rather than linger any longer as the water continued to billet into the glass door, you hopped in and slid the door shut. Ooooh, this was _really_ nice. The water was just a little warmer than your skin, the way that the dirt and grim started to slide right off. Your curls soaked through, a thick heavy mop against your back. Soap. You glanced around, noticing a part of soap and a bottle of shampoo. Usually you just used deodorant, since in sonic showers you didn't wash with anything. This soap was what you had smelled in bed, full bodied and clean. Humming to yourself, you absolutely went to town. Strangely, you were feeling a lot cleaner than a sonic shower had ever made you feel. Layers of dead skin scrubbed off, flushed from how hard you'd worked it, to the point where you were pink and raw but oh-so-clean. 

When you turned the water off -- incorrectly at first, dousing yourself with ice cold water -- you popped your head out to see that a towel and clothes had been left in place of your dirty ones. How was he so thoughtful? _Why_ was he so thoughtful? It made you smile regardless, taking up the towel and drying yourself off, a pleasant warmth radiating in your chest from the Mandalorian’s thoughtfulness. Your curls were soaked through and required being tied up in the towel to scrunch off some of the dampness. Paz had left you one of his undershirts and... nothing else. At first you were a little worried that you'd not be covered up enough, but that quickly changed after sliding it on with a pair of socks. You were pretty much covered, like a child trying on their parent's clothing. The shirt fell over your knees, the socks -- also his -- came up to your knees. The long sleeves were _waaay_ too long for you, so you had to push those up before stumbling out of the fresher. No underwear. Those were being cleaned too.

So the moment you stepped out, a rush of fresh air went right underneath the hem of the shirt and attacked between your thighs. You swallowed hard and then managed to look over at Paz, as he'd returned to checking on his weapons. "How was it?"

"I've been in water before, but not like that. Just torrential downpours," you admit, coming to sit across from him, pulling the shirt down over your knees carefully so you don't accidentally flash him. "But it was really nice. You get to do that everyday?"

"Yes, as long as there's enough water in the tanks," he replied, which made you stiffen. How much water had you used? You'd been in there for a while. "Water isn't that expensive on other planets."

"Oh," you relaxed. "Weird." Turning your head down you look at what you believe it was a rifle, carefully taken apart. "Why did you do this? Was it broken?"

"Hm?" he glanced back down. "I was cleaning it."

"Oh, I didn't know they had to be cleaned." You wish you hadn't said that, because Paz was looking at you -- with what you could only assume was a shocked or incredulous expression beneath his helmet.

"You've... never cleaned that blaster that you have?"

"Uhhhhh," you tried to dredge up any memory of cleaning it, but came up blank. "No."

"Have you ever fired it? I can't imagine there's much here you'd need it for."

"I've fired it," you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. You weren't a good shot. Not really. Especially since you didn't have a reason to practice. You just figured having it might save you from a chance encounter with any sort of wildlife that didn't get along with you. Which had yet to happen due to your natural affinity with them.

"How often?"

Again, no immediate answer. "Dunno, maybe like... once a year to check it." That was pushing it. You hadn't fired it in the last year, but you were trying to make yourself not sound half that bad.

He got up, finding your utility belt and removing the dingy little blaster. It looked so pitiful when compared to his clean, neatly arranged rifle. He sat back down and patted the space beside him. "C'mere, let's take a look." You scooted over to his side of the table obediently, anxious as to the wisdom a Mandalorian could impart. "Maker, this hasn't been oiled in ages-" he was trying to take it apart, the rusted bolts grinding with sand caught between them. Your face was starting to burn -- swelter actually -- because you knew that wasn't right, didn't take a genius to know that. It sounded awful.

He forced the slide off and there was a snap, the tiny little screw crumbling completely in a puff of metal and rust. "Well..." he started. "I'm surprised it still fired."

"Maybe..." you whispered self consciously. "I haven't tried recently."

"That's good... in it's own way," he assured you, despite the fact your blaster was most definitely broken because of your own negligence. "Here, let's take a look at mine instead. You're not going to be able to salvage that."

He removed his own blaster, twice the size of yours, and clean as a whistle. "Now, pistols come in different shapes and sizes, utilize different types of plasma -- some even use slugs. This is a standard cartridge pistol, but it's been made for my own hand. Slide comes off one the top like this-" Paz dove into the details, removing each piece, demonstrating in front of you the proper and safe manner in which it came apart. Your attention was rapt, soaking it in like a sponge, the details, where you needed to clean and oil and how often you should do it. Apparently, if you were practicing, you should clean it later in the evening -- which you'd never done. Letting the residue sit on the metal wasn't good, it corrode in the inner workings and the weapon wouldn't last as long as it could. 

"Show me how to put it back together now," he requested, leaving it on the table disassembled.

You liked puzzles and that's what this was. One, intricate puzzle. He'd done it piece by piece, so this wasn't really much of a challenge. Rocking forward on your knees, you started with the grip, unlocked the trigger mechanism and began returning the parts to their home. You pinched your finger once, but it didn't so much more than make you suck a little air before continuing. Finally, you had a weapon in your hand, just as when Paz had removed it from his holster.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

All the pieces were gone until he opened his glove and revealed the firing pin, the most important part and you'd built the pistol around nothing. Without the firing pin, it was all just for show. "Were you hiding that?"

"Wanted to see if you'd notice," he mused, sounding as if he were smiling beneath that bucket.

"That's not very nice, now I have to take it apart again," you sighed deeply, reaching for the firing pin, but he snaked his arm away and from your grasp. "Hey!" You followed after him, realizing that he was teasing you, keeping the last piece just out of your grasp as you flailed, trying to steal it from him, failing spectacularly as he deftly evaded your clumsy jabs. 

"The firing pin is the most important part. I'm surprised you managed to put it together and not realize," Paz continued to elude you, which was impressive considering how big he was and that you were now standing up, still trying to wrestle it from him. 

"I'm a farmer, not a Mandalorian," you remind him, grunting as he palms your stomach and pushes you just out of reach, your short arms struggling in vain. 

"You're a lot more than just a farmer. Engineer and mechanic also come to mind," he let the firing pin come just within grasp and you went for it, taking the bait greedily just like Jumbles ate the eggs right off your lap. Paz removed his hand from your stomach and you fell. 

Sailing right through the air, you tried to catch yourself as the breath whooshed out of you, heart thundering at the loss of stability, a garbled yelp escaping the back of your throat. Then there were hands, just as quickly as there hadn't been, cushioning your fall before you made impact with Paz's lap. You weren't a fan of that trick, trying to calm down as he picked you up and righted you. "Y-y-you couldn't j-just gi-ive it t-t-to me?"

"No, that was a little too fun," he admitted to your chagrin. The beskar was cold, leaching through the thick shirt you were wearing, which had climbed up a few inches since you'd been dumped in his lap, nearly baring your ass. You shivered, the firing pin finally in your grasp, glancing down at the pistol as your heart rate began to pick up in an accelerando. "Fix it."

Like this? On his lap? Oh dear, your mind was already beginning to churn a little slower than usual. Shifting, you fumbled for the pistol, fingers clammy and not as deft and confident as usual. Your loose curls puffed around you, mostly dry from your shower and smelling absolutely divine. But it was sort of in your way. You blew a curl out of your face, jolting when you felt a gloved finger trace along the crown of your ear and tuck a few strands out of the way. Your heart picked up again. Now you were glaring at the pistol as if it'd called your mother a fat bantha. Don't be distracted. You can do this. You can-- a hand wrapped around your midsection, dragging you further onto his lap, flush against his cuirass. Ok, you weren't thinking of anything more than each minute thing that the Mandalorian did.

From the steady rise and fall of his chest, the palm on your leg massaging into your flesh, the other one tight against your abdomen. Focus! He was doing this on purpose. This was all a part of his game -- and. you. weren't. gonna. lose. Were you a sore loser? Honestly, you hadn't played many games except with the Jawas and you liked to rub it in their rude little faces when you won. So yeah, you probably were a sore loser. 

"Mesh'la," he drawled in your ear, causing you to tilt your neck back, throat bobbing as you finally had the pistol taken apart enough that you could return the firing pin to its home. "Can you be a good girl for me?"

You were convinced he was still trying to distract you. "W-why?"

"Because you look so pretty putting that pistol back together. Can you be good for me?" he murmured and that's when you realized it, this was a turn on for him. Seeing you, someone absolutely clueless about weapons, learn from him and then put it together piece by piece... You froze where you were, wondering how to perceive this new bit of information. You were already growing flustered, a combination of arousal and competitiveness making your cheeks hot and attention wane. There was something incredibly sexy about trying to impress a Mandalorian with your newly found skills in taking a pistol apart, even if you weren't a good shot. You just hadn't thought that he'd enjoy it so much.

"What do you want me to do?" you questioned softly, your rapid pace grinding down slowly, nearly to a halt. Replaced now with the gunning of your heart rate and the ever increasing blush jetting across your features. 

"Finish and then close your eyes," he instructed. 

Nodding, you completed the last pieces of the puzzle and reached to place the pistol down, finding that your arms were too short to reach the table. His hand moved from your leg, taking it and sliding it back into his holster. The next breath you took stuttered, your nerves getting the better of you as you closed your eyes. Paz shifted and then pressed a button on his vambrace, plunging the cabin into total darkness. You couldn't see, because you hadn't opened your eyes, but you could tell by the way your lids were now completely dark.

A soft click, followed by hydraulic hissing made you tilt, steadied by the man before you before your heart rocketed into your throat. The thick blanket of your hair was pushed to the side, scratchy facial hair meeting the tender side of your neck, and Maker -- _oh_ , it was his mouth. The realization made you groan, a strangled, pitiful noise as you comprehended why he'd asked you to close your eyes. Just another safety precaution on top of the cover of night in the _Kote_. He sucked at your skin, biting marks down the side which burned as they were exposed to the air. 

You were making the most delicious mewling noises as he kissed your skin, confirming that his decision was certainly worth it. He owed you more than this he thought, but he was also on borrowed time. In his shirt, trying to learn about weapons after he'd broken your rusted out blaster, and then managing to fixate on putting it back together despite his roaming hands... You'd done a good job too and his trick had been rather underhanded. You had put the pistol together with what you were given and he couldn't fault you for that. But perhaps he had been hoping you'd notice right away. He was still impressed that you'd been able to do it at all. There were a lot of pieces to a gun and you'd been undaunted. Then again, you were good with machines, so he hadn't expected anything less from someone who had taught themselves how to repair a starship from books.

You were precious and didn't deserve to be alone. He didn't want to leave you alone. He wanted more time to sit at a table with you, to teach you how to defend yourself, to show you all the places you were missing that were just as beautiful and wild as your home planet -- but in unique ways of their own. He wanted to bottle your sunshine and take it with him. He was afraid to let you go, afraid you'd meet your parents' fate, and that his world would be a little darker if he came back to this planet to say hello and found out you were gone. That's why this felt right, because he wanted you and didn't want to frighten you by saying it -- forcing your hand in coming with him when you loved it here. 

And what did he have to offer other than himself? A constantly moving home? A covert that had to hide in the shadows? Being gone for long periods of time when he had to go on hunts to provide for the Tribe? 

His mouth met the hollow of your throat, you'd been slowly turning in his grasp to his will. Cradling you in one arm, bent down to lavish attention on your neck, his other palm meeting your chest again. Ankles twisted out into the darkness in front of you, your own hands clinging to his leg as you held yourself firm, pushing your chest out a little, into his grasp as he finally crested over your jaw and met your own mouth. You were overwhelmed in an instant, an explosion of heat and sensation that rocked your whole body as you got lost in his embrace. You already knew his lips were soft, but flush to yours, they were heaven and you never wanted them to leave. 

He was gentle, so astonishingly gentle for such a large, imposing man. Kindly plying at your mouth before you were the one who lost your patience. Your lips parted and you licked his eagerly, seeking entrance, wanting to feel all of him. He acquiesced, filling your mouth with his heat, tongue interlocking and a gasp causing you to sputter as he squeezed your nipple. When... when did his hand get under the shirt? You hadn't noticed, distracted entirely by the electricity you felt while kissing him. 

He broke away and you whimpered, thumbs swirling circles around the stiffening peak of your nipple, flesh pebbled. "Good girl... can I take it off?"

"It's your shirt, you can take it back whenever you want," you breathed, deserving a light chuckle as he pulled it up and over your head. Careful to keep your eyes shut, your bare ass met the beskar and you hissed.

"Let's move to the bedroom," he suggested.

You nod, about to get on your own two feet when he gets up with you in his arms. You hoped his ribs weren't hurting, but you felt a bit guilty in admitting that you sort of didn't care, because you were wondering about what was going to happen. He placed you carefully on the bed and from the sound of it, he was reaching into a drawer. 

"Mesh'la? I'm going to put this over your eyes. Just in case?" he offered it to you so that you knew what it was, the soft gossamer material sliding against your pads. A blindfold? 

"Ok." You wanted his mouth back, squirming as you waited and he secured the blindfold around your head. While it was unfortunate that you couldn't see his body, you were still highly aroused by the amount of trust he had in you to ask for just closed eyes and now a blindfold. Huffing anxiously, you gripped one of your breasts, thumbing your nipple while waiting, wondering what he was doing. 

Finally, after a couple of minutes, he returned, the bed depressing as he climbed onto it. Robbed of your sight, you leaned heavily on your sense of hearing and touch. And your hearing was shot, really only aware of the pounding of your pulse as you yearned to be touched again. A hand planted beside you, warmth radiating off of him as if he were a heater, before he kissed your collar, jolting you like a little shock of electricity, a sigh of relief following and easing your shoulders. Why... _why_ was he doing this? Not that you were complaining, Maker no, you definitely weren't complaining -- it's just... No one had ever spent this much time on you. 

He was sucking welts into your skin, each one sending lancing ripples of pleasure across your exposed flesh, as he made way down to your breasts which, admittedly, made you a bit nervous again. "Mesh'la?" he noticed that you were holding your breath. "What's wrong?"

"I-they're sensitive. And... in the past-" Oh you were going to ruin the mood, but what if he accidentally hurt you too? That would definitely ruin the mood. He’d been careful before, but this wasn’t last night and you were fully exposed for him to do as he pleased.

"I'm going to be gentle, I know..." he assured you, pressing featherlight kisses around your breasts before taking a nipple in his mouth. He teased the skin lightly, nibbling, sucking. All doubts you had evaporated like water after the wet season and you exhaled deeply again, chased with a moan of agreement. "I'd never hurt you, mesh'la. _Never_." And you believed him, with all your heart you believed this terrifying, intimidating warrior of legend would never hurt a hair on your head.

Massaging the breast he wasn't kissing, you arched into his palm, core melted completely, taken aback by how much this was doing for you. Your thighs pressed together, trembling with anticipation, your bundle of nerves vying for attention. He moved lower, dragging his tongue along your ribs, creating more marks on your soft tummy, before his beard scratched along your hips and you bucked. A strong hand guided your legs apart and you didn't resist, _needing_ attention down there as you panted as if you’d run two miles and the rest of your body vibrated in expectancy. 

You were expecting his hand, so when the warmth of his mouth met you down there you actually screamed. 

"Woah! Hey, it's alright-" he jumped up, holding your hip down as you almost began hyperventilating. 

"S-sorry. Y-you su-urprised m-me," you stammered through your confusion and fright, trying to gulp down breaths to steady your heart rate. Now, you'd given blowjobs before, but none of the men had ever reciprocated. "Yo-you don't have t-to." You'd never even suggested it before, coming under the assumption that it was just a dirty thing that men didn't like to do. "D-don't feel obligated be-because I-"

"Has no one done this to you before?"

You shook your head, cheeks flushing, thankful for the darkness to hide your face. Or... that's what you thought. You didn't know there was a light on in the room and Paz could see everything going on. So then why did you shake your head? You were too frazzled to think straight.

"Mesh'la, I want to. I _want_ to taste you everywhere."

The confession made you whimper wistfully. "But I thought-" that guys didn't like to do this.

"I don't know why someone wouldn't have by now," Paz admitted, caressing the skin he'd marked up, admiring your complexion and body.. Even as he told you this, part of him was further aroused that he'd be the first to take this from you. "You're so pretty. Everywhere. Especially down there. Will you let me?"

Part of you was disconcerted, battling with the idea that you'd thought was a no-go for most people. But then you thought about how nice the warmth of his mouth had felt and the trust you had in him to make you feel good. Finally, you nodded again. 

Paz returned between your legs, carefully warning you as he blew on your clit before lathing his tongue over it. Your neck jerked and you arched immediately, the new, foreign sensation making you cry out, but not of surprise. Gripping the blankets, your legs trembled, his palm keeping you from closing and squeezing on him. His tongue was softer than his fingers, more dexterous and able to fill your clit up entirely, tracing it in a new way that felt erotically luxurious and overwhelming. "So sweet, love. And wet. All of this for me?"

You hummed in agreement, barely able to control yourself as you clenched your teeth between huffs. Why had no one done this before? Stars, you had no idea what you were missing out on. How much more was there that you'd not experienced? He sucked on your bud, switching between lavishing attention and swirling circles. He trailed down, his tongue dipping between your folds, the insides of your sensitive thighs catching the rough edge of his facial hair. 

He returned to your aching nerves, laying into you as his tongue flicked quickly, clutching your thigh as your breaths became more labored. You couldn't see, but you felt it coming, scooping low into your pelvis, pressure building to the point where you felt the reins of your control slipping and you got choked up. He might've spoken had his mouth not been what was dragging you to the proverbial edge, destroying you, obliterating you like the Death Star had done to countless planets. You disintegrated, the same bird flying over the edge, but this time both wings were healed and you soared into the sky. You kept riding, his mouth replaced with fingers as he continued his ministrations through your orgasm. 

"That's it mesh'la," he soothed, the deep voice cradling you as you panted and came down, legs clutching as your clit became intensely oversensitive. He licked between your folds, removing his hand from your swollen clit and began lapping up the mess you'd made. 

"W-wh-wha," you were breathy and a little incoherent, speech slurring as you tried to fumble around for him blindly. 

"What is it?" he inquired calmly.

"Wh-what about you?"

"Do you want to keep going?"

"Mhm."

"Tell me what you want," he edged up the bed, coming down to lay beside you, returning his mouth to yours. He was wet, facial hair damp from eating you out, and his tongue was tacky. The taste was foreign, but not unpleasant and a little sweet. He wasn't wearing any beskar now, which must've been why it had taken him a moment to come to bed. Your palm met his bare chest and you savored the ability to finally be able to explore it. You were careful, not wishing to brush too hard against his ribs, but what you felt was as impressive as what you'd seen before. Your fingers butterflied over his strong pectoral muscles, trailing to meet in the center as you coasted between his ribs and to his solid abdomen. He was broad, hips bigger than yours, a wisp of hair descending below the belt. 

"This," you slid your hand underneath his waistband, not surprised to find him hard after playing with you. It'd been like this last time. Even though you claimed it, you were partially terrified of trying to accommodate his cock. A thrill rushed through you, the idea of the immense pleasure it could bring or how it'd fuck you within an inch of your life. There was no knowing until you tried and you wanted to try. 

He huffed in your ear, "You certain?"

"Yes," you asserted, squeezing him and enjoying the moan that followed; your small palm couldn’t even fully encircle his girth. Yet it was the unmodulated tone of his bass, filling your belly up with warmth as he laid beside you. Stars, his voice was so much better, if that were even possible. Every breath, noise, and huff no longer crackling with static and the full heat of it numbing your senses. 

"You... should be wet enough, but-" he considered you, Maker he wanted to do it, but you were so small. You weren't frail, you'd proven this by now, but the difference in size between the two of you was severe. You only reached up to his chest while standing, not even his shoulders. He was afraid of breaking you. 

Now your hands had wormed down and you cupped his balls, squeezing all recourse from his mind as he moaned again. "I trust you."

Paz drew in a deep breath, filling his diaphragm as he considered the logistics very, _very_ briefly. His ribs still hurt and they were aching now. "You'll have to go on top, mesh'la."

You were always up for a challenge, despite the fact that his words sort of scared you. On top? As in getting speared by him? Absolutely split open with nowhere to go? He was rubbing reassuring circles into your side, giving you the time you needed to think about this before you finally gave another ' _mhm_ '. Hooking your fingers of the waistband of his pants, you helped guide them off before he sprung up in your palm. Able to estimate where his hips were, you threw a leg over and pressed his shaft into the heat of your folds, beginning to slick him with your wetness. Each stroke against him was debilitating, from the sensation of your pussy, to the way your perky breasts bobbed, and the cascade of hair fanned out in a curly cloak behind you. Paz was absolutely entranced. 

Finally, you decided you were wet enough to make your attempts. Realizing what you were about to do, he gripped your hips as you came up onto your knees, touching his weeping head to your heat. Your legs began to quiver, anxious but also excited, blood rushing as quickly and suddenly as a flash flood as you tested carefully. Just his head stretched you wide and there was more to follow. This was gruelling work, so painfully slow that you weren't even certain it was possible as you coasted down an inch and stiffened. Drawing a deep breath, you shimmied more and let out a heart stopping moan. The rest of him slicked up and you yelped as he was buried to the hilt.

Both of you froze, mostly you because you hadn't expected the rest to go in so easily. Not _easily_ exactly. Your entire insides felt as if they'd been rearranged at this point and you didn't know if that was good or bad or if moving would make it worse. So you sat there, on the brink of panic.

Paz was frozen because you were so fucking tight. His cock felt as if it were being strangled by you and you weren't even doing anything. His head fell heavy against the pillow and he tried not to spend himself in that moment, but it was difficult. You were silken inside, the tight walls a vice grip around his cock and pulsing around him. 

And then you moved, testing the waters a little bit and bucking forward as you knew this was going to obliterate you. Not in the same sense as the orgasm Paz had brought you to before, but in the sense you were going to hurt tomorrow. Even now your legs ached as you mounted him, refusing to move properly as you tried to ride him. 

He could see your struggling and the valiant effort you were making to move, but he gleaned that this was overwhelming for you too, your pubic area distended slightly as your tiny frame managed to fit him. Maker, the sight of that caused him to shift, grinding his hips into you, watching as you released the lip you were biting and cry out gently. He could see his own form in you, stretching you, but somehow still fitting aside from the telltale bulge.

"We can... we can stop-" Paz offered despite the fact he didn't want that. He wanted to keep going. He wanted to see how he moved inside of you, filled you up, and made you whimper. His thoughts were derailing and he was losing his composure. 

"N-no. I just... need help," you told him dolefully.

He could do that. "Just tell me if it's too much." He began slowly before smoothing his hands along your hips. The last thing he wanted to do was break you before leaving you on your own. The rhythm was slow at first, each soft strike causing you to moan in protest, but it was the slowness that hurt more. You began to move into him, picking the pace up a bit, working in tandem so that his hands could guide and assist your trembling legs. It still hurt, but it was a blistering white burst, each hit against your pelvis a battle between pleasure and pain. Maker, you'd never been stretched so wide before and it was so good, an experience of ecstasy you’d never had the honor of battling, clenching your jaw as you fought for control and were beginning to unravel at the seams. 

You moaned his name finally, incapable of keeping a straight face, the result an even quicker assault into your cunt, his fingers brushing back against your clit as you panted. 

"Mesh'la, Maker-- you're so fucking good. So tight and perfect. Cum for me a second time? Will you?"

"Mm," you couldn’t even talk as you could feel it building up in you as he drew quick circles, pounding into you, your back aching as you tensed. Your ailing core was glazing over and your eyes rolling back into your head as you started to fall away. "A-ah. I-I'm going to, b-but-" Where would he finish? You weren't on any kind of birth control, you hadn't needed to be for a couple of years now. 

He shifted, throwing you down against the mattress with ease, before continuing to strike into you. This angle was different, his mouth meeting yours, the soft mutterings in a language you didn't understand not mattering. You knew he was saying sweet things in your ear. "Where?" he knew it was coming, you were on the brink of an orgasm, toes curling. 

"O-on me," you managed, just as your body betrayed you, muscles snapping into rigidity and voice halting to a pitiful whine in the back of your throat as you lost sense of up and down. You were snared by the rapture of each forceful pound into your cunt, fingers still tracing your clit, until you were overwhelmed entirely and mumbling incoherently. 

It took all his will as you clamped down around him, walls fluttering and back arching beneath him. The darling noises in tandem with how good you felt made it gut wrenching to pull out and stroke out the last few bits of his orgasm, spending his seed on your breasts and stomach. The pearly ropes flew from him as if he hadn't just been sucked dry a few nights ago. Glistening in the low light with his cum, your chest continued to bob as you came down from your high a second time. You were a pretty sight, one that he admired as you tried to catch your breath. 

Eventually, you brushed your chest, coming away with the sticky cum. Bringing it up, you slid your fingers into your mouth, suckling away the precious liquid just as you had done before. You savored the taste of him, finding yourself hungry for it again after last night. Paz was leaning back against the headboard, length twitching as he watched you lazily mop up his spent load and place it between those plush lips and swallow. You missed a few spots in your blindness, but Paz scooped it up, bringing it to your mouth where you cleaned his fingers. He kissed you after, an insistence mess of his lips as he tried to prove what he was feeling with that kiss. 

"Mesh'la," he purred, pulling you back across the bed and into his arms. You fit perfectly enough that he could snake his arm around your hip and nestle onto the curve of your ass. "Are you hurt? How are you feeling?"

"Good.. tired, but good," you mumbled, naturally nuzzling into the side of his pec as his arm came around you like that other night. Your legs ached, numbed slightly and from how you’d been split open further than ever before, but you didn't regret any of it. "Was it good for you? I'm sorry I had to ask for help."

"Don't be sorry, I didn't think you'd even be able to fit me," he chuckled, brushing your thick hair back and coasting his thumb in crescents along your hipbone. "You were amazing. So perfect. Just wish my ribs weren't still hurting."

"Are they ok right now?" you reached up gingerly, grazing over the afflicted side. 

"They're fine." 

"Maybe I shouldn't have... you did turn me over at the end..."

"Shh, I'm fine," he assured you, grabbing the edge of the blanket and tugging it over both of your forms. "Just go to sleep. I'll be here in the morning. You're safe."

"I know," you mumble, nearly incoherent as you're pushing a kiss into his collarbone. " _I know_."

* * *

He was there like promised when morning came, strong, solid, warm, and snuggled close, but you were also duly reminded that you hadn't been home a lot in the last few days while working on the _Kote_. You really didn't want to leave his side, because there were probably only a few days left of getting to be beside him, but you also couldn't ignore your animals. The idea of pulling away made your every fiber shriek in disdain, because you’d wanted this more than anything. To wake up beside someone, to be in their arms, and to just waste an entire day there.

"Paz," you whispered, poking his chest lightly. 

"Hm?" he sounded groggy, as if you'd woken him up by doing that.

"I have to go check on the farm," you said apologetically. Truly, you didn’t _want_ to go. "Do you have your helmet nearby so I can get up?"

His fingers tightened around you, the idea of having to lose you not a fond one, but you had responsibilities. Sighing, he grabbed it off of the nightstand and slid it back on, smothering the clean smell of you and the breaths he’d once felt against his cheek. Each moment that you both lingered like this staved off the eventual separation. Chasing it away like a bad dream. But sleep was coming and you couldn't keep that nightmare away forever, nor the sorrow that would chase after. "I'll meet you there in a bit."

You removed the blindfold after the sound of the helmet clicking back into place. Finally able to see, his chest was revealed to you and you could make out the lattice work of scars along it that you hadn't quite noticed before when you'd stripped him to heal him. They were hidden beneath his chest hair, but this close, you could really see them. Maybe you'd get to ask about them before he left. You tried not to wince at the idea, shoving it to the back of your mind after pressing a kiss to his chest. 

"Where did you put my clothes?" 

"In the ion cleaner, next to the fresher."

"See you soon," you hummed, heading out, naked as the day you were born to find your clothes where he'd told you. They were clean and fresh, vacant of oil and clay filled sand. Throwing it back on, you snapped the scrunchie on your wrist around your hair and smiled gently. This was his home, so neat and clean when it wasn't in disarray from a crash landing. It suited him, you decided. There was a homey feeling to it despite it just being a starship. Maybe that was because of the night you'd shared around the table, talking about something that was a part of his everyday life, leaning about it... he had described everything so well to you.

There was only one speeder bike, but you knew the path well enough that walking on this fine morning wasn't a big deal. Sunlight smiling over the ridge, not yet basking you in its warmth as it hadn’t crested the edge of the canyon. Trudging up the pass, you hummed a soft tune, finding that despite your legs being a kind of achy, that you're in a really good mood. It didn't really skim your mind that you hadn't seen Jumbles in a few days. He wasn't actually your pet, just a wild animal that liked your company. He was probably fine, hunting in the nearby passes while you only checked in periodically to feed the remaining tip-yips. Wait... How many days had it been? It might've been two since you went home.

Picking up your pace, you chugged up the rest of the hill and glanced at the coop. No chickens. Aw hell, did those fucking assholes take all of them? Usually they made pretty well on their bargains. _Fuck_. You'd have a stern talking to Tho next time you saw him. Maybe you'd be even angrier if you weren't in such a pleasant mood from your evening with Paz, but you were already destined to go to the city. Grumbling, you stomped over toward your home something catching your eye. Not something... more like a few things. There were a handful of speeder bikes out in front of your house.

Had someone stopped by? Ah, well as long as they hadn't dumped the place you supposed that was fine. Make themselves at home within reason. You went to the front door and opened it, somewhat excited to have other guests. Man, so many people all in such a short amount of time! 

And then your chipper smile slid right off. Sitting at your kitchen table was a pod of stormtroopers. "Uhhhhhhhh," you froze in the doorway. You were good at fixing things, but reacting on a dime during a stressful encounter? Shit. You were absolute massiff shit at that. 

"Do you live here?" one trooper inquired.

"Y-yeah," you looked between them, realizing that they were playing Sabacc. Ha. That was kind of funny. "Am I in trouble? Can I help you with anything?" You clasped your hands in front of you to keep them from shaking. The Empire had been looking for Paz. Is that why they were here? Nothing else on this planet that might interest them.

"Depends. Have you seen a Mandalorian?"

You giggle, because you're extremely nervous and that seems the logical thing to do. Had you seen a Mandalorian? You'd slept with him last night. Was that the Mandalorian they were looking for? "Nu-uh," you lied, hooking your fingers in your utility belt. "Why would a Mandalorian be all the way out here? Ain't nothing out here."

"You're out here," a stormtrooper pointed out. This one was in all black armor and he sounded more dangerous than the others. The grit of his tone raked unpleasantly down your spine and your anxious smile quavered. "What's a pretty little thing doing out in the middle of nowhere?"

"Workin'," you grumble.

"No husband? No family?" 

"Gotta husband," you protested, hoping that saying this would deter them from doing anything... bad. Kriff, what were you kidding, they were going to do whatever they wanted unless Paz was right behind you and you knew he wasn't. 

"No, you don't," the dark stormtrooper laughed. "You're here on your own. I know, because I went through this shack."

 _Fuck_ . Welp. You had two choices and you didn't have a blaster, so you turned around and fucking booked it. _Flight_. Definitely flight. You heard them shuffling after you, legs regrettably weak from your tryst with Paz and you were stubby and short. Adrenaline did a good amount of the work for you as you sprinted back down into the ravine, sorta praying a krayt dragon would pop up and save your sorry ass. 

"Stop running!" You were yanked right off your feet, held up by the back of your coveralls like a kitten. You garbled, losing a chunk of the oxygen in your lungs as you swayed. "You know where he is, don't you?"

"N-no! I do-on't know w-what you're talkin' 'bout!" You thrashed helplessly in his grasp, the dark trooper leaning in. 

"Mhm, so I'm guessing that your nonexistent husband gave these to you," he poked at a sensitive mark on your neck, making you gasp, completely forgetting that Paz had given you those. "I mean, if I found you out here on your own, I probably would've done the same. Look at you. Must be lonely to let some random mando sleep with you. Tell us where he is and I'll show you a better time. What a _real_ Mandalorian is like."

He was Mandalorian? He was wearing the wrong armor. You gave him a look down before bucking, continuing to thrash to no avail. Nothing ever happened on this planet. Why the one time something really good happened it was followed by the freaking Empire? 

"Stop," the trooper ordered, but you didn't, you just kept flopping around like a fish hoping he'd drop you. " _Stop_!" He slapped you so hard that you felt it in zip all the way down to your toes. Now you stopped, ears ringing and eyes unfocused as stars danced in front of your vision. "There. That's a good girl. Now tell me where the Mandalorian is and I'll be a little nicer next time." Good girl? No, he hadn’t done anything to deserve calling you that.

You gave him a contemptuous glare after your vision stopped spinning, still rather pitiful coming from you. He was waiting for an answer. So you cursed at him in Jawaese, deserving of another earth rending slap. 

"You've seen him. Where. Is. He?" he drew his blaster and pointed it at you, cold metal meeting your tender throat. "I thought people were hospitable on this planet. You've been nothing but a hassle. The Mandalorian's not worthy dying over. Just tell us where he is and we'll let you go."

Maybe the Jawas hadn't taken your tip-yips. How many days had the Imps been here? You glanced around, jaw stinging and weary from your fight. You were still off your feet like a petulant loth-cat being held by its scruff. The other troopers were milling around, kicking over supplies, they'd pushed 6PO to the ground and it couldn't get up, legs flailing, cricking quietly as it couldn't speak to ask for help. Jumbles wasn't around, which didn't make any sense. Jumbles was _always_ around. Jumbles was-- and then you saw him. Over by the barn door where you stored your speeder bikes, his legs sticking out from the door. 

"Jumbles?" But you knew he wasn't going to get up. You knew you weren't going to see his stupid drooling face. You could feel the lack of lifeforce from him. They weren't going to let you go. No, one of the stormtroopers was pouring fuel all over the tip-yip coop, another was pilfering through your greenhouse. " _Jumbles_?!" You were more hysteric this time, blinking tears as you began crying over the massiff. 

The death trooper glanced in the direction of the barn. "Oh that?" he tilted his blaster away to laugh. "That thing was your pet? Thought only Tuskens kept them. Learn something new everyday. So, what's it gonna be, dala?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drop comments or hit me up on tumblr with questions @spc4eva
> 
> My headcanon is that many Death Troopers are Mandalorians who joined the Empire after the Great Purge. Just an fyi.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut warning; unprotected sex

They were burning it. They were burning your farm. 

Bound and gagged, you had to watch as the two generations of work was being obliterated at the hands of the Empire. Tears ran down your nose, not noise escaping you as you shook on the ground, heat curling off the back of your neck, sweltering and making you swoon. Sorrow, fear, misery, agony. Your greenhouse, the water vaporators -- so much wasted. What was the point? Why would they just burn it?  _ Destroying evidence. _ Smoting your existence as if it'd never been there, as if you'd never made memories here and grown up in that house. You didn't have much, but all your holobooks, your stupid rock collection, and your clothes were in there. Most of the clothes were just coveralls, but they were still yours. 

It wasn't the material things you sobbed over. No, it was deeper than that. You'd done so many things here and it was all you'd ever known. Now it was ash in the wind, nothing going to remain other than the steel that wasn't burned out, standing as a gloomy sentinel to hint at the atrocity committed. And why? Because you had been kind to someone, healed them, taken care of them... and where was he? He'd said he would be right behind you and now you were beginning to doubt that. What if he'd seen the mess and decided that you weren't worth it? He was still hurt, so you didn't blame him for not wanting to fight five people at once.

Your heart ached, because you thought that... with all that you'd shared, the fact that he'd taken his helmet off... maybe it wasn't that special. Who cared about you? He knew that you were alone and you'd fixed his ship up for him. He was gonna leave and you'd fallen for all his sweet words. Mandalorians killed for a living, he wasn't going to care if you were just another amongst his tally. You had probably been the biggest sucker of them all. Healing him, feeding him, helping him to the fresher, giving him everything you had --- even your body, maybe even a little bit of your heart too. And for what? Fire and death?

"Ready to tell us where he is?" the death trooper bent down in front of you as you wept in the dirt. 

"Fuck you," you sniveled. Everything was gone. You gained nothing out of turning him in. 

"Maybe later," he stood back up and you shuddered at the thought. 

"Hey, looks like we've got movement up ahead."

You jerked your head up, neck aching and cheeks definitely bruised from where you'd been slapped. Narrowing your watering eyes through the smoke you thought you saw... a dewback? What the kriff. The creature rumbled, upset by the fire and smoke, threatening to charge. 

"What do we do?" the white stormtroopers were looking for direction.

"Well shoot it!" the black one exclaimed as if it were obvious.

You got to see the truly unimpressive shooting ability of stormtroopers in action. Dewbacks had thick skin, so all they were doing was agitating it. And then -- fire was returned. What!? How was a dewback shooting? How --  _ oh _ , it wasn't the dewback. Even through the haze, the opponent shot back with stellar precision, striking down the two troopers to the left before the dewback reared and charged. Trundling forward, the death trooper tried to square off with it before leaping out of the way. White hot flames ignited, followed by a hissing wine as the death trooper was flung several feet back. The dewback hadn't hit it, but someone else had. 

Flames beating high behind you, so searing that you thought you were being burned by the inferno, the dark blue armor appeared almost black in the manic illumination. The trooper was back on their feet, blaster in hand as they began pacing circles with the opposing Mandalorian. You were mildly delirious and uncertain if what you saw was actually happening pace for pace. 

This wasn’t a normal death trooper. Paz knew it as he matched the strides, ignoring the other two stormtroopers who were trying to deal with the rampaging dewback. He’d heard of this from his sister, that there were Mandalorians who had switched to the Empire’s side to be paid for their work, despite the fact that the Empire had gutted Mandalore and slaughtered many vod. Now, in the feral line of his opponent, he knew instantly that this masked fiend had once been a vod in the precise manner they moved. But he was in dark plastoid, not beskar’gam. And Paz still overstepped him by more than a head. 

The smoke continued to churn forward in a dark cloud and he was wasting time while you choked on the ground. He drove forward, the death trooper knocking aside the muzzle of the rifle before it could find him. The pistol flashed in the mad light of the fire, but Paz’s left hand snapped out gripping the arm of the trooper as he fired, the bolt pinging uselessly off his armor. Had he been a second later, it might’ve struck between the protection of his beskar. Before the trooper could disengage with a well planted kick, Paz twisted, the dominant hand of the Imp making a sickening crack. Dancing backward, the trooper grunted and gripped the broken wrist, blaster having fallen from his fingers in the scuffle.

Ripping a vibro-blade out, his bad wrist was pinned to his chest as he levied it. “Are you ready to go to Manda?” the trooper taunted. 

Even between the curling fronds of his fury, Paz managed to laugh spitefully. “At least I’ll be going there one day. You’ll never walk amongst those halls,  _ dar’manda _ .  _ Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur. _ ” Any Mandalorian who’d chosen the Empire over their own was weak. Paz thought the man in front of him was chuckle worthy as he leveled a blade, as if he’d have the skill to plant it before he was gunned down. He only knew one person who could pose such a threat to him and she loathed the Empire. 

The two clashed, your eyes widening as you couldn’t make out between the smoke and carnage. But as you blinked through the bleary wet tears, eyes burning. A blaster bolt went off and you shifted, waiting for the haze to clear just as the other two stormtroopers broke around the edge of the dewback that had started its descent back into the canyon. Stepping through the haze was the dark, non reflective glare of beskar. You were already crying, but the tears were now of unadulterated relief that Paz had won the fight and not the death trooper. With your mouth gagged, you couldn’t warn him about the stormtroopers that were now lining up, taking a knee to begin firing at him.

Only one blaster bolt hit him and it bounced right off of his armor. Turning around, he gave them an unimpressed tilt of his helmet before leveling his pistol. The troopers tried again, but were taken down in a laughable fashion, as if they were stationary targets. Once he gave the scene another hard survey, Paz hurried over to you. "We have to go, Tranyc. We have to go-" he cut the bindings on your wrist and pulled the gag down. You were covered in dirt and soot, tear lines running gashes through the darkness on your face. "Stars, what did they do to you?"

You started crying again as his glove met the side of your sore face. "I-I wouldn't t-tell them-" you sobbed hoarsely. "I-I-I'm scared."

"Shh," he scooped underneath your arms. "Hold on tight. Close your eyes if you need to, but you have to hold on." Pressing you to his chest, you wrapped your arms around his neck and clung as best you could, hooking legs to his hips despite the uncomfortable seat of his utility belt. His jetpack ignited again, the source of the white flames you'd seen through the smoke. The ground was spiralling away, your eyes dropping and you felt... nothing. Just watching the farm become a quavering light in the night, like a single candle's flame across a remote landscape. 

He landed by the  _ Kote _ , your limbs shaking from exhaustion and being utterly overwhelmed by the most action you'd ever seen in your decades. Wrapping both arms around you, he hurried into the ship, didn't deposit you, but took you up into the cockpit before starting the ship. Flipping switches, the engines starting, and continuing his ministrations as you pressed your face into the cowl of his cloak, trying to dab your tears that kept coming. He  _ had  _ come for you. All that doubt and he had come to save you. You didn't know if you should be happy or upset. He'd come too late to save your home, but he'd come. 

Paz guided the ship out of the canyons and upward, breaking atmo without an afterthought. His skin was hot, rolling with primal fury as you clung to him, crying softly into the fabric of his flight suit. You'd done nothing to deserve this. But he couldn't stop right now. Not until the two of you were in hyperspace. It had taken the Empire weeks to catch up with him, but they'd managed to do it. Fuel was low, he'd need to make a pitstop and Tatooine was grudgingly close. Maker dammit, that was the last place he wanted to go. He charted the navigation and punched the hyperdrive. Fuel was fuel. That's all he'd stop for.

"Tranyc?" he entreated gently, prying you off enough that he could get a look at your soot stained face. He tried to rub some off, which made you flinch. No, that wasn't soot -- deep purple bruises were on your cheeks from where you'd been struck repeatedly. Your eyes were wet and red, but you had a thousand yard stare, the shock of what had occurred glazing you over completely. "Darling, look at me."

You finally blinked, a few tear drops cascading as you glanced up toward his visor. The troopers had done this to you because of  _ him. _ There was no other reason they would’ve bothered a farmer or beaten them. Not without orders to conduct interrogations. And you had defended him. People’s resolve crumbled for less, especially when their entire livelihood was on the line. Paz already hated the Empire for everything they’d taken, but the fire was rekindled anew. He was livid, looking down at your wet, bruised face, shame and guilt overwhelming him as he hadn’t gotten there soon enough to protect you. Just after promising you that you were safe with him, he’d let you walk into a den of wolves.

"I'm so sorry. I should have been there sooner-"

"Where were you? I-I thought you weren't coming," your voice broke and your lips trembled. "I thought you'd left."

Hearing those words broke his heart, but how could he blame you? Paz hadn't realized anything was wrong, never thought it until he'd spent the better part of his day picking up around the ship, taking a shower, and running a few checks on the engine before stepping outside and noticing a hellish glow emanating from the upper echelons of the canyon. Smoothing your curls, he shook his head. "I'm sorry. I thought I'd lost them, I never thought they'd find me out here, let alone go after you. I should have been there. I should have never left you." 

You nodded slowly and pressed your cheek against the beskar chestplate, the cold metal soothing to your ailing skin. What were you going to do now? Everything you'd owned was gone. "Why were they following you? You never gave me a straight answer, but I didn't think to go poking around..."

"The Imps attacked my covert after I helped one of my brothers escape with a baby that they wanted. Don't know much other than that, but I was one of few who escaped and they must think I know where said brother is," Paz explained. "Whatever they want with that child, it's part of something much bigger than I ever thought."

"One of those troopers... the black one... he said he was Mandalorian. But... he doesn't look like you," you pointed out. 

"He was dar'manda. Maybe he was Mandalorian, raised that way, but he forsook his people to become a death trooper. Many death troopers are dar'manda. Looking for the easiest path with the least resistance, betraying our ways to make credits and be on the right side of the law."

"It's not the right side anyone. The New Republic rules now."

"Where was the New Republic when the Imps attacked you?"

You didn't have an answer, instead you sighed and closed your eyes. "It's all gone," you warbled miserably. Even innocent Jumbles was gone. "W-where do I even begin? I don't know anything about the galaxy. Just home. How to farm and stuff-" Your chest felt as if you'd taken a full on sucker punch and you whimpered in discontent. 

"You can stay here. With me, Tranyc. As long as you need..." he drawled off. This wasn't how he'd wanted to convince you to come with him. He'd wanted it to be a choice, not because everything had been ripped out of your hands. "I won't leave you again. Not unless you ask me to. I promise.”

You had somewhere to stay and a person to take care of you. That felt like such a foreign concept. For so many years you'd taken care of yourself, carrying the burden of you solitude, and tending to your animals. The idea was queer, confusing, and in your mental state it made you scowl, mind filled with a thick fog that you couldn't see through. You had wanted to spend more time with him and part of you had also wanted to see other planets. Maybe one day you would have asked him to take you, once you had a better solution for the farm in the meantime, but it was gone. You were here now, leaving your dustball planet for the first time in your life and that petrified you. Because as much as you rolled with the punches in your day to day life, this amount of change was overwhelming.

Paz could tell you were on the brink of passing out from a combination of exhaustion and mental distress. Aside from going to your home planet when you were young, he doubted you'd been off of it since. 

"I-" you started up again, trying to formulate your thoughts, but the ideas were evading you, running too far ahead for you to catch up and speak. "-don't want to be a burden."

Burden? You were worried about being a burden? Paz's lips tightened underneath his helmet and he stifled a sigh, rubbing circles on your lower back with his palm as he sank into the seat. "What do you want, mesh'la?"

You didn't know right now. Your wounds were still too fresh and deep to make a decision like that. It was such a broad question and honestly, too much for you to handle in that moment. "C-can I help you?" He had just saved your life. In that second, you'd entirely forgotten that you had done the same for him and that technically, this should have made you even. But you were accustomed to working all your life and without that rock solid foundation of regiment you found yourself losing more grip on reality. You couldn't just pitter around the ship or you'd find ways of letting the churning maelstrom of your darkest thoughts beginning to smother you. "Can't fight, b-but maybe I can do things? B-be your mechanic or somethin'?"

Work. You were asking to be put to work. The first bit of direction. You craved it. Everything except for the Mandalorian had come crashing down spectacularly and you were trying to find the first piece to begin rebuilding your foundation on. Work was the most logical place to start. Because you had to work for a living, to survive, and it wouldn't be any different because you were on a ship now. You needed a job for your own sanity.

"I could use a mechanic," Paz revealed, which made you perk up hopefully. "You said the Kote still needs some work. I can make that your job."

Your head was bobbing enthusiastically, hyperfocusing on the distraction from the trauma you'd just endured. Rapidly, you began considering what you remember being on the ship and what you'd require to be capable enough to fix it. "I'd need supplies," you comment, chewing your lip and paling as you realized you needed more than just work equipment. You had lost everything. "A-and stuff."

"Mm," he hummed in agreement, continuing to pet your hair. The sensation was soothing and you melted back against the cool beskar as you rattled out a long exhale. "We'll take care of everything. Maybe not on Tatooine. We'll need to make another stop on a more suitable planet after we fuel up. Why don't you make a list before we arrive?"

A list. You could manage that, but not right now. You didn't want to move right now. Sitting on a man clad in full armor shouldn't have been comfortable, but it was. And you were absolutely drained, face aching, and lungs burning from the smoke inhalation. "Ok," you mumble, clinging onto your Mandalorian as he rubbed you. You were lulled to sleep by the rise and fall of his chest, swaying gently like the rocking of a boat on the ocean, reminded once again that you were safe. As long as he was around, you were safe.

* * *

He put you to sleep again and when you woke up, you were in one of his oversized shirts. Rubbing your eyes, you glanced around the chamber before getting up. It was cold. Why was it so cold? You grabbed the fluffiest blanket and drew it around your shoulders as you left the captain's quarters behind and stepped out into the hull. Mentally, you had it together a little bit better now, but with that came a soul crushing headache. You were thankful that the ship wasn't brightly lit, mostly just a few amber lights here and there that cast a dim ambiance across the shed. 

You wouldn't call it a kitchenette, because that's not what was beside the table. It was more like a flip down hotpad, a caf machine inlaid on the side, a nozzle for potable water, and a little disposal unit for any trash. From helping rearrange the ship, you knew that the nearest drawers contained rations. Which at best, were meh. They were relatively tasteless ways of gaining the nutrients you needed. Sure, they came in flavors but mostly that was savory or sweet. The differences between something like chocolate or peanut butter were almost negligible. 

You sat down, not really certain where you were going, but you plopped down on a pillow and just stared at the durasteel table. So... this was it now. You were the mechanic for a Mandalorian with nowhere else to go. You knew the other farmers around your home planet, but asking for boarding seemed like an incredibly ludicrous and cumbersome thing to do. You also didn't know if the Empire would attack your neighbors after what had happened on the farm if you tried to stay on planet. It was safer for everyone if you left. 

Funny, you had wanted to have more time with him and your kriffing wish came true. Now you wouldn't be lonely! Your stomach rebelled at your poor attempt to be wry. This was not Paz's fault. From the sound of it, he had been helping his brother escape the Empire and your father had told you before that the Empire never needed a good reason to do terrible things. You'd brushed it off, believing that your dad was just being overdramatic. No one could be that awful. Right? 

But they were and now you felt hopelessly adrift amongst an ocean of things you didn't know. You thought you knew how people reacted, but then again you'd only ever met nice people until the stormtroopers. You knew Tatooine was a skug hole. You knew that there was Hutt activity and slave trading there. See, you knew a great many things from reading and watching galactic news, but you'd never experienced any of it first hand. 

Paz will protect you.

The very thought made you inhale and exhale at a normal pace. You rubbed your face, cheeks still stinging from where the death trooper had slapped you around. Slapped. Not punched, not kicked. He'd slapped you around and you'd been bruised pretty badly. 

"Oh, you're awake," Paz stepped out of the cockpit with a datapad in his hands. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired still," you reveal wearily. "But it's more... mental."

He trotted over, sitting down beside you and pulling you into a warm embrace. Maker you had needed that, just the confirmation that you weren't alone through this. No words were needed. The display of comfort, his powerful arms carefully encircling you and hiding you from the galaxy... You sighed and pressed into him, uncertain why the small gesture was bringing you to tears. "Talk to me when you need to," he offered softly.

"I like this," you tell him, preferring the way he shielded you and the heat of his body chased away the cold. Oh, the cold. "Why is it freezing on this ship?"

"Hm?" he loosened his grip enough so that you could glance up at him. The two of you were close enough that you could kiss his helmet if you wanted to. "We're in hyperspace. Space itself is quite a bit colder than your home planet. Are you cold?"

You gave glance at your blanket, arching a brow at him to make a point. The silly twist of your lips made him laugh. "You're not cold?"

"No, but I'm used to this," Paz returned and you comprehended a little better. He was dressed from head to toe and had the additional layer of his beskar. 

"You are warm," you grumble, pressing your face into the fabric of his flight suit. He was big, warm, and totally cuddlable and honestly, you were kind of a greedy bitch for his cuddles. The first taste you'd gotten nearly a week ago had set you up for disaster. At least all the tears you had spilled hadn't been over him leaving and one good thing had come out of all of this. But... you were working for him now. What did that mean for the two of you? Well, you were nearly on his lap right now, so clearly there wasn't too much to worry about, but you wondered if there were any logistics you should worry about. "And quite a bit? It never gets this cold in the canyons. Maybe not as hot as Tatooine, but we still orbited around two suns."

How the heck could a planet be so warm, but the space from one to another was this cold? You weren't an expert on planet stuff, just like you weren't a medic. Seems you had a lot to learn. "Tatooine," he muttered, fingers tightening around you subconsciously at the thought. "We just need fuel and then I plan to leave that awful place."

"I know the Hutts used to be pretty active there before the war. What's so awful about it?" you inquire curiously. 

"You might not mind the climate, but it is very hot and dry there. And even with the fall of the Hutt syndicate, there's still remnant activity, slavers, and the overall atmosphere of the planet hasn't shifted much in light of the turn over to the New Republic. It's too far and not much worthwhile for them to chance coming out here just yet," Paz elaborated.

"Wow there's still slavers?" Again, another foreign concept to you. Of course you knew what slaves were, but you couldn't understand how people could do that. How they could treat someone as if they were dirt, less and baser than an animal.

"Not just on Tatooine. There are other places that still allow slavery. Technically, the New Republic has their own form of slavery for criminals. Most have to work in indentured servitude to pay off their crimes."

"But that's... different," paying off crimes and debts in exchange for hard labor seemed fair. Not being held against your will for being unlucky. "Are you wanted by the New Republic?"

"Don't think so," he shrugged. "I try to keep my bucket out of anything that has to deal with them. Fortunately for us, it's only the Empire."

"Yeah,  _ fortunately _ ," you drawl sarcastically, rolling your eyes, but his words make you smile. "So... what are we going to do once we fuel up?"

Paz had a good amount of time to consider this while you were resting. He had been contemplating his course of action and knew that returning to the covert might not be the best idea until the activity with the Empire had settled down. "I know a Guild Master on Dadrus," he began slowly. "The ship costs a decent amount to keep running. Until we're certain that the Empire isn't tailing us, we can't stay in one place for too long. My original plan was to return to my Tribe."

He had very briefly mentioned his people to you and part of you expected the secrecy surrounding them was for their own protection. But now... you felt as if you could ask. "What's it like... with you Tribe?"

"Comfortable. Home," he sighed wistfully.

Immediately your thoughts hitched and you stiffened. You'd not thought to ask it, but now you were really thinking about it. "Uhm... y-you don't have an-nyone-" Anyone that might be waiting for him like a partner or a wife. Would he have slept with you if that were the case? Honestly, you didn't know how Mandalorian culture worked and if that was allowed.

"Aside from the Foundlings that haunt my every step like an army of ghosts, no, mesh'la," he purred. "It's been a while for me too."

That was hard to believe given how dexterous and experienced he was in that field. But his words relaxed you, glad that you weren't homewrecking or expecting to stand toe to toe with another lover. You still didn't know what this was, but maybe it didn't need a tangible name or label. You were content in his arms right now. "So children like you?" You assumed that's what Foundlings were, sounded a lot like Younglings and your father used to refer to children -- of all races and species -- as Younglings.

Wasn't hard for you to imagine why children might like Paz. He was patient, a good teacher, and gentle when he needed to be. But he was also strong and... you thought back to how easy he'd made the fight between the five Imps look. The very death trooper that you'd been unable to writhe free from, he'd kicked to the ground using his jetpack as propulsion. Stormtroopers weren't known for the prowess in battle, but it had been more than you could handle. Easy enough for a Mandalorian. 

"Well..." he pittered off, as if bragging a little bit was not suited for him. "I teach the Foundlings, so they are keen on me."

"I can see that," you murmur against his shoulder. "You're a very good teacher."

"You're just saying that."

"No, you were very thorough."

"Helps that you're an attentive student," he rumbled, pressing his helmet into the side of your face, the same type of kiss that he'd done before. 

"You should teach me more... sometime," you suggest. "I'm a pretty poor shot and if I'm going to be running around with you, I should probably know how to shoot a blaster." 

"Yes," his voice was quiet, barely picked up by the vocoder, crackling with static. "You should know how to shoot."

"I bet I'll get the hang of it in no time with you as my teacher," you gave him a big smile, earnest and bright. While you said these words, you also highly doubted it. Given how well you'd reacted in the face of danger last time, you knew you were just as likely to shoot yourself with a blaster as it fumbled through your sweaty fingers than actually be able to point it at someone with the intention of killing. But you liked the way he taught and it would give you more reason to steal his time over something he was very knowledgeable in. And... your intentions weren't completely innocent. You knew that subject was a bit of a turn on for him. 

"Here," he cleared his throat, trying to blink away the haze of arousal that had blindsided him as your sweet smile. "Use this to draft up a list of what you need. After Tatooine I was thinking of bringing us to a supply stop before going to Dadrus."

"Where we going?" you inquired as you took the datapad. Maker, you were going to need everything. From toiletries, to clothes and underwear, shoes, proper attire that would keep you from freezing your tits off on this ship. Then there was also the question of how many tools you'd need. 

"Dadrus is on the other side of the Outer Rim from here. I was thinking Gala would make a good stop before we arrive on Dadrus," at your clueless look, he continued. "It's a wealthy planet and under the rule of the Republic. There should be plenty of supplies and we shouldn't run into any issues while there. The Empire wouldn't show face on Gala."

"Why wouldn't we just wait on a planet that is governed by the New Republic then?" You point out.

"I'll attract unnecessary attention."

You hadn't thought of that. Mandalorians were not a dime a dozen and on a safe planet, people might grow incredibly wary of his linger presence. The New Republic may even question his intentions. They were typically bounty hunters, so it didn't make much sense for one to stick around in one place for a long time. "So... what if we go between planets that are New Republic?"

"Because the ship costs credits to run," he reminded you gently.

Ah, right and these planets weren't just going to top off the ship with fuel and supplies. Frowning slightly, you chewed your lip and nodded. Damn, there really was no easy way to manage this. You suppressed a sigh, turning your attention back to the datapad as you began drafted up what you'd need. "We should get real food too," you said out loud, not realizing that you might be rude in saying that. "I-I can cook it."

"I do like your food," Paz contemplated before nodding. A warm cozy feeling settled into your stomach at the compliment. "We might be able to find some salvageable food on Tatooine. It's going to take the better part of a fortnight to reach Gala once we leave the sector."

"Wow? Really?" You had no concept of space travel.

"Gala is hundreds of thousands of light years away. Requires navigating through a few different hyperlanes to get there. Even Tatooine takes the better part of a day to get to from your planet."

"Then we must almost be there," you realized. 

"Few more hours," he confirmed. "Here, you should put a little more of this on. I applied it when you were sleeping for your cheeks-" he picked up a bottle on the table, which appeared to be a bacta lotion. You hadn't looked in a mirror since waking up... or since you'd taken a shower a couple days ago. But you didn't feel grimy, so you wondered if Paz had cleaned the soot and dirt off of you while you were a limp noodle. Accepting the bottle, you stood up, immediately feeling the cold of the ship press back around you as you headed over to the fresher to assess the damage.

Flicking the switch on, you had been correct in your assumptions. The ash was gone from your face and the blackened bruising had faded to a sickly yellow. Your cheeks were still raw, but the lotion had done a swift job of erasing the trauma. Still, your eyes were a bit puffy from all the crying you'd done, nose tinged red as if you had a cold. You felt like a kriffing mess, clutching that bottle and staring at yourself for a few long moments, finally blinking and shattering the spell that held you. Just put your foot forward as you'd done everyday on the farm. This was life now and you just had to accept the hand that fate had dealt you. Even if you were afraid, naive, and felt completely unprepared to start exploring the galaxy, you had Paz beside you and he knew what he was doing. He promised he'd never let anyone hurt you and you believed him. Not just because you were too kindhearted and gullible, but because he'd saved you and took care of you. 

Opening the bottle, you lathered your cheeks, the tingling sensation tracing electricity over the bruises and numbing them. You distracted yourself by putting a little too much on, creating big circles of white on your cheeks, making a few faces in the mirror, earning yourself a giggle at how stupid you looked. Shooting. Paz was going to take your dopey ass shooting. Taking your elastic band off your wrist, you put it on your index finger and thumb, cocking it like a gun. Maybe you wouldn't be half bad with a professional guiding you. You made a bam motion in the mirror and the scrunchie flew off, ricocheting off the mirror and slapping you in the forehead. It didn't hurt, but you stumbled a few paces back in surprise. Crap, if that was any indication on how shit of a shot you were, Paz was in for a long day at the range.

* * *

Tatooine was hot. Way hotter than home. Like ten times hotter than home. Holy shit, why did Paz think you'd like this place? You could feel the suns glaring down at you with the full intention of giving you a sunburn. You'd not gotten a sunburn in years. Usually only your face and arms were bared, so you definitely had one heck of a farmer's tan, but you were feeling it coming on now with each second you stood roasting like bantha meat on a spit. Your hair was probably the worst thing about all of this. You tried to find a way to finagle it, because it was getting sweaty and damp on the back of your neck, but you only had one scrunchie and that was not enough to tie all that fluff into a bun. 

So you suffered, flanking Paz as you started down the sand swept streets of Tatooine. People here dressed similarly to back home in robes in earthtones. There was a lot of haggling, bustling, and activity. What you picked up on immediately was the fact that people parted easily for you. Well, not for you, but for the Mandalorian. No one wanted to touch him as if they were afraid that he'd burn them if they so much as brushed by. He kept you close, hand hovering protectively by the small of your back, almost holding onto your belt. You weren't going to wander away, but you were very curious about everything around you with your eyes stretched wide.

You hadn't seen many other races aside from humans and Jawas, so getting to see Toydarians, Rodians, Dugs, and a motley of aliens was an absolute delight. Maybe Paz did need to hold onto you, because your legs had a mind of their own and you had never feared for walking somewhere unsafe before. 

"Nope, this way," Paz guided you from the direction you had started to list toward, which was a shop of junk, mostly salvaged droids and parts. Not any of the more reasonable places on the strip that had things you might actually need. 

"Where are we going? Is it inside? It's hot."

How was he not overheating in all that clothing? Did beskar have some secret high tech that allowed for him not to sweat his balls off? Hmm, you didn't think so, but also didn't know why he wasn't complaining. 

"We're going to the range. The stations are in the shade," he told you, which was somewhat of a relief. The range? Thinking back to your battle with the scrunchie you grimaced a little. Dear Maker, you prayed, please, please, please don't let you make a fool of yourself. "Fueling up takes a few hours and there will be a delivery of food too. So we have a little time to kill."

The range was outdoors made up of several lanes with targets. Controls were situated in each booth, allowing for the targets to be turned on to create popup simulations. There was a mild bit of activity on site, a few other shooters amongst the two dozen lanes. The worker for the range gave Paz a dubious look, which made you giggle. Almost as if to say 'Why in the Maker's name do you need to practice?' But you two were assigned the middle lane labeled 12. 

"Now, you know basic gun safety, right?" he set his blaster on the shelf in front of him, which met the top of his thighs and was tummy high for you. 

"Keep the weapon pointed away from anything you don't intend on shooting. Finger off the trigger until you're about to shoot," you recalled those very basic lessons from your father. "Weapon on safe until you intend to fire. Treat every blaster as if it's loaded."

"Good," he nodded, making you smile slightly. At least you weren't an absolute idiot. "We'll start with closer targets-" he pressed the range controls, turning up the popups at 25 meters. "I need to get a better idea of your form. So go ahead and take the pistol and fire."

Now you were smiling nervously, reaching over to where the pistol that you'd taken apart the other night was. It was heavy and too big for you. He had mentioned that it was custom built for him and he was more than double your size. Finding the most comfortable way to hold it, you held your arms out, fumbled the safety, and then scrunched up your face as you tried to aim. Pulling the trigger, the blaster shot made you jolt, elbows bucking and blaster smacking you right in the face.

Paz caught your arms before you could do anymore damage, setting the pistol back down on the counter. "Let me see-" he tilted your head up, pulling down the hands that had automatically went to where you'd yammed yourself. 

"Did I hit it?" you garbled, having not been looking. Oh stars, you'd closed your eyes when you shot at it, hadn't you?

Paz was quiet, confirming your suspicions. His thumb brushed the tiny bit of ripped skin where you'd taken the blaster, but you weren't bleeding. "You locked your arms out, which caused them to buck with the recoil. You're too tense. And... you should keep both eyes open."

You knew that, but your body had reacted on its own and you'd ended up getting hurt in the process. Huffing, you glared back out at the target that you'd whiffed. "What should I do differently?"

"Watch me first," he instructed, picking up the blaster and pressed the range controls to allow for the targets to move in their popup rotation. His arms were not locked out and his stance was wide, supportive, and straight aside from the tiniest lean forward. The first target popped up and his finger was on the trigger, squeezing and hitting square on center mass. The target fell down in defeat, his shoulders turning as one further out popped up. One by one, he took them down, your eyes tracing between him, his form, and then the successful quick shot that he rained down on them with expert precision. His breathing was controlled and he wasn't tense. He was acting as natural as if he were sitting up in the cockpit or relaxing. He was Mandalorian and weapons were his religion, so of course he'd not exert any effort in a skill that was as mundane as walking or breathing. 

He reached and swapped the cartridge out before resting the pistol on the counter. 

"Now tell me what you observed."

"You had a wider stance, relaxed, easy breathing... and you weren't afraid of it."

"You're afraid of the pistol?" 

"I mean it did come back at me like I insulted its mother, so yeah," you admit sheepishly.

"My breathing was controlled, but it may have looked natural to you," he began explaining breathing cycles and how it was important to shoot at either the top or bottom of your breath. Experts could without adhering to the guidelines, but beginners who weren't familiar with bolt pathing needed the extra stability with their sight pictures. Everything sounded so logical and simple, but putting that to practice wasn't as easy as wiring and programming. Usually those things couldn't kill you.

After running down bullet pathing, trajectory, and math - you liked the math aspect - Paz had the pistol back in your hand. It was a tool. It didn't have emotions, you did. But that didn't change the fact that it made you nervous. You tried applying what he told you, but your arms were shaking as you held the pistol out and you were still jumpy. You fired at the 25 meter target and hit the sandy burm beneath it. 

"That was better," he encouraged, but it didn't feel that way. "Here, I'm going to help adjust you-" he came up behind you, utility belt brushing up against your back as he clasped onto your wrists. "Relax, mesh'la. Relax," he eased, guiding your arms out from their rigid position. The back of his cuirass met you and for the briefest moment, you did relax completely. His soothing deep voice filled your ears, rumbling like the earth being shaken by thunder in the wet season. Then you remembered you were on the range and started to panic again. "Now both eyes open. Slow controlled breathing. Go for the bottom of your breath, when your shoulders are down rather than the top when you're naturally more tense."

Following the instructions, you narrowed your eyes at the target, promising to give it a piece of your mind as he helped steady you. You sort of imagined that the target had a clever quip about kissing it's ass or something stupid, but your finger brushed the trigger and you fired. For the first time since starting, you hit it. Not center mass, but enough to the side that it caused the target to fall down in mock defeat. 

"There you go! Good job!" 

You were beaming, absolutely splitting the biggest smile since leaving your home planet. You envisioned yourself as somewhat of a sharpshooter now, wondering how soon it'd be before you were the quickest draw on Tatooine. Ok, admittedly you were getting ahead of yourself with your dumb daydreams, but you were so ecstatic that you'd actually kriffing hit it. Leaning back, you craned your head up to look at him. "That was me? You weren't helping?"

"I wasn't helping you aim," Paz assured you. "Do you think you can try a little further? Without me holding your arms up?"

Try? Sure you could try. You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. "But can you... stay there?" It felt nice having him right behind you, making certain you didn't hit yourself in the face again. 

"I can stay," Paz agreed, which caused your shoulders to relax immediately as he lowered his own hands and moved them to your hips. Oh, stars you liked that so much better. A pod of butterflies erupted in your stomach as he pressed the next set of targets and you had to focus on them. But at this point you were just focusing on him and the nice cool press of the beskar against the inside of your back, chasing away the bitter hottest of Tatooine. You shifted your weight as you went to aim for the first and closest target, grinding into him more than intended. 

Paz kept a close eye on how you were lining up your shot, suppressing a huff as you leaned into him. You were inexperienced and green, but he'd taught Foundlings how to shoot for their first time too. But you weren't a Foundling or a child, and so when you pressed into him the codpiece pushing into his groin, he felt a rush of hot white desire as you fired again, missing the target, but undaunted. You tried again and grazed it before making the next attempt at a further target. The pistol was too big for you, he knew that, but he didn't have anything smaller. With the right amount of practice, he knew you could shape up. You weren't a natural and that was fine, he didn't want you to have to use these skills, they were just a safety measure. 

But there was a baser hunger in him that was stirred as you applied yourself, the huffing of air as you tried to blow a few stray, sweaty curls out of your face, the absolute focus you'd come under when you were really applying yourself. You'd looked much the same while working on the ship, but this time it was in his field of expertise. Shooting was just... shooting. He didn't derive any excitement from doing well, which he always did. Practice like this was more of a waste of ammo than beneficial at this point. However, when he watched you, there was a thrill in observing you get better, get more familiar with the weight of blaster, and your valiant attempts to not be daunted by the fact that you probably only hit the target once out of every four shots. 

And you were flush against him. Each tiny movement from your breathing to the way you shifted your arms, he could feel it. 

"I think," he started carefully as the trigger clicked, indicating that the cartridge was spent. "That it's time to go."

"Hm?" you glanced up, pinning him with those big eyes. 

"Time to go," Paz repeated again, voice hoarse and staticky as it came out of the vocoder. 

"Already?"

He smiled at your enthusiasm, wondering if you'd caught the husk in his tone or the breathy edge. You couldn't feel him, he had a codpiece on, but he wanted to leave --  _ now _ . "C'mon mesh'la, let's go-" he brushed some of the scattered curls out of your face tenderly, despite the beast threatening to overwhelm him in that moment. Maker, why were you so pretty? He was careful not to be pushy as you handed over the pistol and he reloaded it with a swift click, jerking it down into his holster. Placing a hand at the base of your elbow, he began whisking you away, his own open strides too large for you as you struggled to keep up. 

His eyes snapped upward, helmet tilting as he felt a growl rise in the back of his throat. He had intended on beelining for the ship, but he noticed something -- rather  _ someone  _ and had to readjust his pathing. Nearly picking you up, he dragged you over into an alley, causing you to yelp in surprise. "W-w-what's going on?"

"Old friends," he muttered, glancing back out toward the road before continuing further down the alley. 

"Friends? You don't sound very friendly," you observed as he held your hand, bringing you deeper into the labyrinths between the main street. 

"Ok, they're not friends," Paz admits, pausing around a corner and letting out a deep exhale. "They didn't see us." At least, he didn't think they had before he darted down the alley. He felt incredibly hot, not just because of the dual suns of Tatooine, but because of how dolefully you stood in front of him, looking for guidance, imploring him. "Mesh'la-" he groaned, crowding you against the wall. "I wanted to go back to the ship." Now he was just complaining. It wasn't your fault. 

"We'll get there eventually, won't we?" you point out brightly. 

"But that's not-" he pressed his helmet against the wall in aggravation. "Mesh'la?" He brought his fingers beneath your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. You were dewy, a little sweaty from the heat, but all smiles and sunshine. He dragged the pad of his gloved thumb over your lips, tracking the lower down. "Fuck."

Now you were beginning to comprehend why Paz had wanted to get back to the ship and your cheeks began to flush as if the sun really had burned you. You let out a soft breath, staring up into his visor as you were pressed against the wall of a building, boxed in by his impressive form. You knew that you got aroused from teaching you about weapons, but in your own little world, you'd not remembered until now and his insistence to get the heck out of the range. Now you were waiting for the coast to be clear in a dirty alleyway and your own legs were beginning to tremble as a surge of heat -- not from the climate -- rocked your knees. 

"P-Paz?" you're stammering, eyes half lidded as he traces his thumb down your chin and against your throat. You weren't really going to...? Not in an alley? Where could anyone see you? Your heart picked up a few beats, ears rushing with the sound of your pulse at the dizzying idea of him taking you in the alley where someone could walk in on the Mandalorian fucking you. Why was that exciting? Oh Maker, that should not have been half as exciting as it was. You should have felt dirty and ashamed by these thoughts as your hand planted against his cuirass, throat bobbing against his fingers as you wondered what was about to happen.

"Do you want it?" he muttered.

You were in your coveralls, not exactly the best article of clothing for a tryst in the alley. But you nodded, chewing on your lower lip. "I... always do."

"Mesh'la," he growled plaintively. "You can't say things like that to me."

"Why?"

"Because I won't be able to control myself."

"I know you'd never hurt me."

"Hey!" 

The voice caused the both of you to jolt, necks snapping in the direction of a gesticulating hand. "Fuck. Time to go," Paz grabbed you, hoisting you up like a child, your chest colliding with his pauldron. Air bursting from your lungs, he was running beneath you, blaster in his other hand, arm encircling you from under your ass as he made a mad dash through the alleys. You were wondering why he didn't just use his jetpack. If he did that, everyone would see the two of you. 

He was fast, charging through the side streets like the dewback on your home planet. The two of you were back at the hangar, the  _ Kote's  _ gangplank hissing downward before he burst into the cockpit. There wasn't a moment to spare, he was flipping switches, grabbing the controls with you still in his arms, and taking the ship the hell off of Tatooine before you'd even managed to fill your lungs up fully. When you finally lifted off the ground a loud laugh popped out of your throat, hair frazzled and snapping in all directions as you looked up at him. 

He was still tense, coiled and ready to strike, but at your giggling he eased, cocking his helmet to the side. "Friends?" You poked. 

"Mm, friends," he hummed, unable to keep himself from chuckling as you continued to snicker. 

"I'm going to go wash some of this sweat off while you set us back on course," you told him, bending forward to press a kiss to his steel cheek. The sensation of the metal on your mouth was refreshing. Climbing down you left him to that bit of work, checking on the few supply crates that had been loaded onto the ship with fresh food. You weren't really certain what some of it was before ducking into the fresher to wipe your neck and between your boobs with a damp rag. 

"Mesh'la?" 

You fumbled the rag. How the hell could he sneak up on you like that? Sure, you weren't hyper sensitive about your surroundings, but he was still quite large and you expected to hear his boots carving their path toward you as he crowded you in the fresher. "Hm?" He grabbed your waist, pushing into you, your hips hitting the edge of the sink. You floundered, gripping onto the edge of the metal as you gasped. His codpiece was gone and you could feel the rigid line of his hardness against your ass.

"You were going to let me take you in that alleyway, weren't you?" His helmet fell on top of the crown of your head, lolling slightly as he huffed through his vocoder. Maker, you'd done this to him? 

Face sizzling, you gave a small nod. "I..." You hadn't been thinking straight, perhaps the heat had gotten to you and you'd agreed to something so incredibly dirty when you usually wouldn't. His hand glided up to your chest, pushing the shirt up, revealing your perky breasts to the mirror where you could see your own face shifting and your lips parting as you let out a soft whine. The sink was cold against your tummy, but the rest of him was a hot blanket above you. "Yes."

"I would have," he was quiet, mumbling almost as he rolled his fingers over your nipple. "Out on the range you were such a good girl. Listened to everything I taught you. You'll get better. You were doing so well today-"

You moaned louder, leaning into his hand, crushing your stomach into the sink at his praise.  _ Fuck,  _ why did you like it so much when he told you how well you'd done? You knew you were shit at shooting, but the way he said it... he wasn't saying you were amazing, but he was still praising you somehow. 

"What if someone saw us?" you managed to squeak out.

"I would have shielded you. You're so small," he answered simply, reaching down to palm between your legs. "I wouldn't have let anyone see you. Do... you want me to show you how? How I would've done it?"

You knew you had to be soaked at this point, his fingers digging in against the material of your coveralls. Each sentence he uttered made your skin blister, heart steadily picking up in tempo, and threatening to give you a heart attack at this point as you were squished to the sink. The ache was awful, so needy and desperate that you could barely answer him. You manage to bob your head when words evade you. 

Drawing you off the sink, he pushed you up into the opposing wall, boxing you in just like he'd down in the alley. His helmet fell against your brow and you could hear his heavy pants coming through the modulator. He hooked a finger in your waistband, tugging both the coveralls and your underwear in one fell swoop. Skirts. You definitely needed skirts. The logistics of pants were too much of a hassle, they were --- you keened to his hand as he brushed your bundle of nerves and came down in between your folds.

"Mesh'la you're already soaked," he realized, watching as you pressed your head back against the wall and gnawed on your lips. "You really wanted it that badly in the alley?" He was taken aback by this as you continued to kick off your pants and boots. He'd have to buy you a dress or a skirt, pants wouldn't have worked in the alley. "I would have leaned against the wall and picked you up like this-" he ran down his thought process, steadying himself against the wall by bracing his right side, swinging his hand beneath the supple curve of your ass, before lifting you up, encircling your leg, bringing it to rest up on his hips where the edge of his belt was. Balancing you with the wall as a leverage point, he undid his belt and dug his cock out, which sprung readily, throbbing in anticipation. 

Your hands fell on his shoulders as he guided you down, slicking his length against you before holding you by your hips, lower back not touching the wall as he tested his entrance. You quivered, thighs clenching as he fought the resistance of your cunt and buried himself. Both of you gasped, but he moved first, beginning to fuck you against the wall. If he thought you could've been quiet at all when he did this, then he was sorely mistaken. Almost immediately you began to cry out, each fervent lock of his hips to yours stretching and hitting into your molten core. Maker, it felt so disastrously good, your fingers tightening around his shoulders as your heart fluttered anxiously, not wishing to fall. 

"And if you were being too loud-" he continued, pushing closer to you on the wall, nearly crushing you beneath his form so that he had more support, he covered your mouth, stifling the hitching whines and yelps. " _ Mesh'la, _ " he growled in your ear, so gritty and animalistic that it set your teeth on end and stood up all the fine baby hairs on your body. 

Your eyes were watering, shadowed beneath him as he breathily pounded into you. Had you not been held in place by his hand your neck would be limp. He was in all beskar, his helmet against the side of your face, glancing down as he fucked you, beginning to mutter in Mando'a as you struggled to keep your legs encircling his hips. He moved a little harder, your muffled gasps punctuated as you dug your nails into his shoulder viciously.

Paz barely felt it, the marks you were leaving through the layers of his flight suit and cowl. You were a shaking, whimpering mess against him, tears spilling from your eyes as your walls tightened. He knew it was coming, pounding harder as you whined and your lashes danced against your cheekbone. He moved his hand, let you scream his name finally, the vice grip of your cunt around him thrusting him over the edge as your orgasm assaulted him with a wave of pleasure. 

His hips stuttered and he caught his own moan in the back of his throat as he blissed out, forgetting completely that he was still inside of you, unable to hear you saying his name more insistence and not with the same slurred pleasure as usual.

"Paz!" you were panicked as he panted against you, in his own debauched daze. 

He rolled his head, visor looking at you, before he stiffened. " _ Fuck _ !"

"I-i-it's," you were stammering as he pulled out of you, setting you down on your feet. Your knees buckled and he caught you, but you were beginning to run down the last time you'd had your period. Theoretically, you should be due in a week. When was the most fertile time for a woman? Fuck you didn't know that, you'd never tried to get pregnant before.

"Tracyn, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" 

"Uhm," you were glancing down at yourself, wondering what might happen... You had liked the sensation of him finishing in you, the way he'd reacted, perhaps even better than when you'd given him a blowjob. But still... you weren't on any contraceptives. "I think... I think it'll be okay."

He crouched in front of you, capturing your face in his palms and framing you. "I wasn't paying attention. I should have been paying attention. If you become pregnant-"

"Then I do," you say dolefully, glaring down at the floor. "We should have a better idea in a week. That's when I'm due for that time of month."

Paz was quiet. So quiet that it frightened you. 

But his own mind was reeling. Had you just stated it would be fine if you got pregnant? No, you were trying to stop him from finishing inside you, so it wasn't that. "You wouldn't...?"

"No!" you grabbed your stomach reflexively,  _ defensively _ . You were of the age where you wanted children, but you and Paz hadn't established any sort of idea for what the two of you were. "I-I mean, I don't think I'm ready, but that wouldn't be the child's fault for our own stupidity."

He wanted children,  _ desperately _ , but that hadn't been his intention when he spent himself in you. That was something that needed to be discussed prior to a frightening situation like this. But your reaction warmed him. You would have his child if this accident resulted in an unplanned pregnancy. "You're so beautiful. Your ka'rta, your face, everything about you, Tracyn."

You were still holding your stomach, drawing a shaky breath as you tried to combat your anxiety. It was going to be at an alltime high until you had your period. What if it didn't come?  _ Fuck _ . Then you were having Paz's child, you'd already said it. You were healthy and you knew you wanted kids, you just... wanted something more permanent and to not be on the run while it happened. "If I'm not, then I should really get an implant when we get to Gala. Even if... a short one."

Your suggestion made him smile. You weren't planning on leaving and you wanted to be with him, maybe even have his children one day if the two of you worked out in that way. Paz wanted it. He wanted everything to work out and keep you forever. But proclaiming such things now might frighten you when you were trying to cope with the fact that you might get pregnant. "We'll do that." While he wanted children, you being pregnant during this running from the Empire escapade was not a good idea. You were already a distraction enough and if you were pregnant... He shuddered at the idea, having to worry about protecting an unborn child and deal with whatever sickness that came with that. But he'd do it. Without a fucking doubt he'd do it. 

"Can I take a shower?" 

He nodded, standing up before planting a keldabe kiss upon your brow. You were doing better since losing your home, but he knew it might come up again later. He hoped the  _ Kote  _ could become your home. "Let me know if you need anything, cyar'ika. I'll be just outside."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translate: Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur - Today is a good day for someone else to die.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr at spc4eva


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